Inner Voices
by robspace54
Summary: Pilot has a conversation, external and internal and so do a few others, while the crew is in danger.
1. Chapter 1

Inner Voices

By _robspace54_

_**FARSCAPE is owned by the Jim Henson Company. I claim no ownership of the characters, situations, or stories of the TV series and the tale told here is strictly for personal entertainment.**_

Pilot

Pilot heard a shout echo along the passageway. He sighed as he could tell it was D'Argo screaming at a DRD.

"You hear that?" Voice asked.

"Of course," he answered calmly, as he monitored Moya's drive system which was recharging, watched the DRD scurry away from D'Argo's booted foot lashing out at it, listened to Rygel mutter in his sleep, while being aware of a thousand and one other things aboard.

"D'Argo is angry."

"He is often angry," Pilot agreed. "He was _born_ angry. All Luxan's are angry or so I have observed."

Voice took on a tone next that Pilot equated with that of John Crichton's chuckle. "The warrior is frustrated with our relative inactivity."

Pilot nodded. "Yes," he said knowing he had acquired the head bobbing habit from both the human and the sebacean. "But the drive system does need rest."

"As do you."

"We all do. This _starbursting_ about hither and yon in the Uncharted Regions is tiring."

"I think it is fun."

Pilot shook his head, another habit. "You do? I am exhausted - quite spent. When that Marauder Escort came out of the ring plane after us…"

"Be calm, Pilot." Voice went on with almost that chuckle tone once more. "That was exhilarating."

Pilot considered that word. Exhilarating? His memory flashed back to the day he had been lifted into orbit and had been joined. "Yes, I remember."

"Yes… it was the feeling of…" Voice paused for just the right word.

"Freedom? D'Argo, Zhaan, and Rygel speak often of this idea."

"Yes… _freedom_." Voice paused. "No what is John Crichton doing? When he is staring like that I wonder what he is thinking of."

Pilot turned his attention to the crew mess room. He could see Crichton and Aeryn Sun sitting across the table from each other. Aeryn was cleaning her pulse rifle while John slowly masticated a blue food cube. John grimaced as he bit into the item. Rygel had exclaimed that the food cubes reminded him of a Hinerian delicacy.

John sneered down at the plate. "In spite of what Rygel says, this is crap."

"It is food," said the former Peacekeeper. "Nourishment."

"No, it's crap!" John picked up a cube and squeezed it. "This has the consistency of an old baseball."

"Baseball? Oh, another of your Earth words."

"Ty Cobb, Babe Ruth, and Pete Rose."

"Are those three great warriors from the tribe of baseball?" Aeryn asked, brushing a speck of dust from the rifle sight.

"No they were the greatest…" Crichton's voice stopped. "What's the use?" He cocked his arm and threw the food cube across the wall.

Aeryn Sun automatically tracked the food fragment with her rifle. "Must you waste food?"

Crichton stood and angrily stomped from the room, fleeing down the passage.

Aeryn sat there open mouthed watching the human's retreating back. Her rifle came up and took a bead on the man's back. "_Pow_," she said softly then lowered the rifle and swatted at stray hair strands by her face. "Humans…" she hissed. Frustrating creatures, yet also _interesting_ in an odd way, a way that made her wonder about her actions recently when around John. For some reason she felt both repelled and attracted to him. Bah! She shook her head. She should be executed for just having such impure thoughts - which is exactly what Peacekeeper Command would do if they got ahold of her.

Zhaan glided into Pilot's chamber. "Pilot."

"Zhaan," Pilot answered.

The Delvian crossed her arms and beheld the giant crustacean Pilot. "Are you well?"

Pilot nodded. "Of course."

"You sounded a bit weary the last time we spoke."

"I'm fine."

Zhaan reached out a slim blue hand and touched Pilot's hard upper left manipulator. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

"No. Thank you, Zhaan. I am fine."

The Delvian smiled slowly. "Of course you are. You always are. But don't you ever miss being… well, being off duty?"

"I believe I don't understand the concept."

"Pilot, there must be times that you wish to… relax."

"I am always busy, and I never sleep Zhaan." Pilot cleared his upper vocal chamber. "There is always something to do."

Zhaan held the hard manipulator gently. "I thank you then for all that you do."

"Of course. Now if you don't mind, I should re-examine Moya's data files to see if I can determine where we are. Our last starburst _was_ rather hurried."

"But Moya got us away safely, as always. As do you." She dropped his hard claw, brushed at a wrinkle on her dress and inclining her head backed away as she glided from the chamber.

On the next tier below Crichton flew past her shaking his head and mumbling. "Crichton?"

The man took a few steps past and stopped. "Sorry Zhaan. It's just…"

"I can see that you are having a difficult time," she said.

Pilot eavesdropped on the pair. He could see as well that Crichton was angry, no more frustrated, by recent events as he clenched and unclenched his hands into fists.

"There is nothing I can do, or say, or think…" the man said sadly.

"I know it is difficult for you," Zhaan replied.

"He is sad, I think," Voice piped in.

"I agree." Pilot coughed.

"Are _you_ sad?" Voice's tone was one of wonder.

"No, I'm only… busy. You know that."

"You are always busy, I am sorry."

"No, don't be sorry. Let's listen once more."

Crichton's chest was heaving. "Difficult? Yes! Damn difficult!" He turned and rested his head against a tier rib.

Zhaan reached out in much the same way that she had touched Pilot. "I know, John."

"There's not a thing that I have in common with another… _thing _or_ person_… on this Leviathan!" Crichton's chest heaved.

"John, that is not true, is it?" Zhaan asked. "We all breathe and eat, and have dreams."

John nodded and Pilot could see how his shoulders weren't so slumped now. "Ah, see how Zhaan's words have calmed him, somewhat.," he told Voice.

"Yes. He tries hard. But… he is a _drellnick_ out of _graff_, that human." Voice almost laughed, at least what passed for a laugh, if that were possible.

"A drellnick is certain." Pilot nodded.

"Zhaan!" John said, "I try to make connections, but I feel that I might as well go out an airlock and yell into the vacuum for all the good it would do. None of you even know anything about baseball!"

Zhaan looked hard at John Crichton. His moods were strange at times, likely due to his loneliness. She was used to being alone, at least inside her head, since she had been imprisoned by the Peacekeepers. Yet Crichton was far alone that another else. She squared her shoulders and she saw how John's eyes flicked across her expansive mammary glands. Humans must spend entirely too much time thinking of recreational procreation, she mused.

Crichton crossed his arms. "Now you'll tell me to chill out; take it easy, something like that."

"Crichton is dispirited," Voice said. "He is often so."

Zhaan smiled gently. "Something like that. You _should_ chill up."

Crichton laughed. "Out, Zhaan. Chill _out_."

Voice laughed. "I like Zhaan. She is a herd mother, yes?"

"You had a mother?" Pilot asked Voice.

"Of sorts. There was one… so long ago." Voice stopped. "Another time I will speak of her."

Pilot nodded into the silence of Voice as he had some sense of what was being said.

John was now listening to Zhaan reluctantly. "Alright. I'll try that. _Try_ to chill out."

"You may find that if you take the position that _she_, that is, _we_ may be actually interested in your stories it my ease your sense of disconnection." The Delvian took his arm once more. "Care to try once more?"

Crichton cocked his head. "Ah what the hell. I can try."

"Good." Zhaan watched Crichton leave her, now whistling a tune which grated on her nerves. She retired to her chamber for moments of reflection on many things, not the least of which was the word _baseball_.

Pilot watched as Crichton stalked back to the mess room. "Aeryn?"

Voice smiled and Pilot easily sensed it. "Let us watch?" the silent Voice asked Pilot.

"Yes, John?" The former Peacekeeper sighed and she prepared herself for another shouting match with the human.

"When I was a little boy my dad would take me to the see the Astros play. That is when he was home." Crichton sat and looked hard at Aeryn. There must someway, he thought, to get through to her.

"Astros? Oh, another of your Earth tribes," she sighed.

John smiled at her. "Yeah. The tribe of the Houston Astros." He picked up five food cubes and put four at the corners of a square about a mertric apart on the table. The fifth he put in the center.

"What's he doing?" Voice asked.

Pilot shook his head. "Strange diagram. I do not recognize it. But John usually does strange things."

"Baseball Aeryn; _baseball_," John said. "Home plate, first base, second, third," he said pointing to the food cubes, naming them as his finger moved. "Right here in the center is the pitcher's mound."

Aeryn stared at him. "An Earth ritual?"

John chuckled. "Yes, Aeryn, an Earth ritual." He dropped four more pieces around two sides of the square. "Right field, center field, left field and shortstop."

Aeryn stared at the food cubes. "It reminds me of a Tritanite battle diagram."

John smiled and nodded. "It's more of a symbolic battle."

Maybe he was trying to really communicate with her. "What's this one?" Aeryn pointed to one at random.

John laughed aloud with all the double meaning her choice meant. "First base. Everyone knows that. If a batter hits a ball out of the infield that's the first base he runs to. He uses a baseball bat to strike a ball that the pitcher throws at him where he stands at home plate. Been a while since I been to first base…" his voice trailed off as he thought of Gilina, the Peacekeeper tech they had left behind on the wrecked cruiser. Gilina was nice, soft, warm, and blonde, quite the opposite of the hard brunette that faced him. She was also responsive and his automatic reaction to her closeness was gratifying, if nothing else. At least at that point he felt in charge of the situation. Yet when Aeryn caught him and Gilina kissing, the fire in the Peacekeeper commando's eyes had hurt; far more than he expected it would.

"He is _teaching_ her, I think," Voice smiled.

"Curious," Pilot added. "I thought he would retreat to his quarters and sulk."

"Zhaan is wise," Voice added.

Pilot and Voice watched and listened until Rygel and D'Argo made their way into the mess now shouting at each other. D'Argo was once more lambasting the Hinerian for his excessive food intake. "Rygel for your size, you eat far more than the Zhaan and me combined!"

"Shut up, you Luxan giant!" Rygel growled back. "If I was still emperor, I'd have you thrown into the Pit of Kelvin for saying that!"

"Well, you're not, are you?" D'Argo hissed at the tiny figure. "Not any more."

Rygel moved his hover chair faster, D'Argo almost running after him. He slowed to a stop above the table, where Crichton was explaining something to Aeryn. "What's this? Another of your Earth things, Earthling?"

"Crichton is telling me of an Earth custom. Basebat, Rygel," said Aeryn.

D'Argo peered at the table and sneered. "Another Earth game?"

"Baseball, Aeryn. It's called _baseball_. Abner Doubleday…" John said.

Pilot's interest was interrupted by Voice. "Pilot. My drive system has been fully recharged."

"Good. I shall tell the crew."

"Crew? I thought they were passengers."

"Passengers? I suppose they are now our crew. They used to be prisoners." Pilot nodded to Voice. "I… Voice?"

"Yes Pilot?"

"I was wondering if you feel free. The crew speaks of freedom often."

Voice sighed happily. "I do. Yes, I feel free."

"Since the Peacekeeper control collar was blown free."

"No, Pilot. Even _with_ the control collar locked in place, I felt free, for even when Peacekeeper Command controlled my every action, they could not control my inmost thoughts."

"I see, Moya. Yes I see. Thank you for telling me that," Pilot replied to her voice.

"And you Pilot?" the voice of the Leviathan named Moya asked timorously. "Do you feel free?"

Pilot accessed vision spots on Moya's dorsal, lateral, and ventral surfaces, getting an all-encompassing view of the glorious starfield about them. He recalled looking at the stars from a shallow tidal pool when he was a youngling, newly hatched, and wondering what it might take to touch them. He sighed then he reached out with his neural links and felt the myriad sensors of Moya, external and internal, all sending him information.

There was a small star system 4.6 arcs off their starboard bow, and there might be supplies for the crew there on the fifth planet. On tier nine a DRD was repairing a leak in a coolant line, while on tier three another was cleaning the mess from a failed experiment of Zhaan's, and down in the mess room… he heard audible voices.

"Baseball. The greatest game every invented on all of Earth. Unless you want to bring up football, and I don't mean what most of the world calls football, I mean American football." Crichton's voice rang down the passageway as Pilot could hear the gurgling in three of Rygel's stomachs, the whisper of meteoric dust against Moya's skin, and the faint ticch as Aeryn parted her lips.

"Another Earth tribe? How many are there, John?" The former Peacekeeper was somehow amazed that John was actually trying to teach her something and not just spout off weird words that made no sense.

"They are a good crew, Pilot," Moya spoke in impulses of thought.

"Yes, they are, Moya," replied Pilot to the Leviathan he was joined with, once and forever. "And since you ask, yes, I believe that I do feel _free_."

Moya chuckled and executed a complete roll about her long axis. "That is good, Pilot. That is very good."

Pilot nodded to his friend who nurtured him, protected him, and carried him forward. "Now, I believe that we should tell the crew about the star system ahead, don't you?"

Pilot did not 'hear' her words, but felt the drive system swing Moya to a new heading. Free? Yes, Pilot _did_ feel _free_.

Moya laughed into the linkage between them.


	2. Chapter 2

Crichton

"I was born a Peacekeeper. I was always part of a division, a cadre, a unit, a team." Aeryn said this to John so matter-of-factly, yet also so sadly.

"Ah… yeah," he muttered feeling his throat go dry as he said it.

"I was only…" she answered.

"Looking for more of your kind."

She ducked her head and looked away. "Now you know."

John had never seen Aeryn get quite so upset. The horrible experience of being turned into a monster, using Pilot's DNA, or whatever the giant crustacean had, had affected her deeply. Of course he'd seen her mad as hell and boiling mad, with her pulse rifle ready to blast a hole in something or worse, _someone_. But the look on her face was so different from the usual look. "You're upset. Perfectly natural considering what that mad-scientist tried to do to you."

Aeryn whirled on him and now John saw that if her hands had that pulse rifle ready she'd blast him into dust. She shot to her feet and a slim fist hit the table. "Crichton!"

Crichton found himself watching her disappear down the tier and while part of him appreciated the retreating female backside, another part felt a flash of fear. Aeryn was so mercurial, so damn mad - all the time - or at least in the process of mad - that he usually couldn't even have a meaningful conversation with the woman. They were usually bickering about, well, nearly everything. Almost like a human woman.

_Woman_? Yeah, thought John to himself. _Woman_. Aeryn looked like a woman, acted like a woman, heck, she even smelled like a woman. And oh my God he'd had any number of spicy thoughts about her.

"Okay, John, she's a woman." He blew out a shaky breath followed with a laugh. "A woman - and she'd probably like to punch your lights out, right this moment." He shook his head. "And… if she's a woman, you'd better go apologize."

D'Argo watched Crichton stomp past him and he sneered. "Don't waste your breath Crichton!" he barked. "You can't reason with a Peacekeeper!"

John yelled over a shoulder. "Shut up, D'Argo. Just shut up!" A DRD skittered away from his angry footsteps and made a plaintive electronic noise. John braked to a halt and looked down at the yellow mechanoid. He knelt down and peered into the dual optical sensors of the tiny machine. "Sorry, little guy." He tapped on the carapace and sighed. "I'm not mad at you."

John found Aeryn working out in the large room she had appropriated for herself as an exercise space. She had painted a large image of the Peacekeeper flag on the floor, a red triangle piercing through a white one. The raw sexual symbolism had jarred him when he saw it for the first time. Was that the way that Peacekeepers looked at the Universe - all smashing and raping?

Aeryn had shed shoes, heavy vest, and shirt and was wearing some leotard-like thing from her calves up to her waist with what was essentially a sports bra above that. Her jet-black hair was pulled into a rough ponytail and as she whirled, her hair lashed about like an angry snake, and while John watched she absolutely murdered a punching bag with a combination of flashing feet and fists.

She stopped with chest heaving and sweat running down her body, soaking her clothing. "Like what you see John?"

"What?" he exploded.

"You seemed to enjoy looking and _touching_ Gilian." She stopped and wiped sweat from her face and chest with towel. "Or were you just putting on a show?"

"You are off your rocker, lady!" Gilian, John thought of her often; Gilian of the blonde hair and soft lips. Gilian was about as different from Aeryn as D'Argo was from Rigel.

Aeryn kicked viciously at the punching bag a few more times.

"Jeeze." John felt fear as Aeryn whirled about, and with a flashing left foot struck the bag squarely, tearing it right of the spring loaded post it was mounted on.

Aeryn looked daggers at the cowering human in the doorway. "One of Pilot's DRDs can fix it."

John stared at her. "That's not the point. Isn't that the fourth time you've destroyed that thing?"

Aeryn crossed her arms, and John could not help but notice how her breasts bulged when she did so. She licked her lips and grimaced showing all her teeth. The juxtaposition of sweaty female flesh and feral near snarl made the hair on the back of John's stand up while something else tried to rise. "God!"

"You're invoking this creator person of Earth." Aeryn chortled. "Has she answered you? You seem to call out to her often enough."

"Aeryn, we don't exactly think of God as being male or female."

"Oh? Seems to me that you need a female to create young. Unless this god of your is both sexes."

John laughed. "That would be weird."

"Makes about as much sense as waving a hand and then things just spontaneously happen."

"Uh, Aeryn, I didn't come down here to discuss Earth religions with you."

She threw down the towel and stamped towards him. "Oh? Well why did you?"

"I…" John ducked his head. "No. I, well… I…"

"Has a _gatlic_ got your tongue?" She laughed. "Or do you have some parasite that's been eating your brain?" Her arms came back to being crossed and she took an angry stance. "That would make about as much sense as when you talking about _baseball_ - that team thing you keep mentioning. Trying to get to first base, John?" she scoffed.

"Aeryn, you have _no_ idea what you're talking about." He shook his head thinking that if she really knew what _getting to first base_ meant, she squash him as viciously as the punching bag had been.

"Oh?" Aeryn took two steps and got nearly nose to nose with Crichton. "_I'm_ not making any sense. Right."

"Aeryn," John started to hold out his hands and pulled them back when they got far too close to the very sweaty and all too human looking mammary glands under her brief black top. "I…" dropped his arms. "I don't want to fight any more, is all. And…"

"And?"

John could see anger in her face and something else just behind her eyes - something that was human - very human. He could see her lip quivering while a pulse in her neck leaped spasmodically. "Aeryn, I hurt you and I'm sorry."

"No, you haven't! Just shut up!"

John looked at Aeryn and he didn't see the angry Peacekeeper for he saw something that he'd seen when they used to play pickup basketball on the playground, long ago. And when picking team mates one by one, there were always hurt feelings - for someone was always picked last.

John raised his eyes to the overhead. "Lord."

"You and your _god_ again?"

"No! No! Listen to me. Don't you think that I'm lonely too? The only human out here in the middle of frelling nowhere!"

"The Uncharted Territories aren't quite your neighborhood are they? Or mine."

"No. They aren't." They stared at each for a few seconds, until John spoke. "Ah…Aeryn, I… doubt that we can be friends… but maybe we can be team mates."

Aeryn snorted. "Team mates?"

"I know I'm not so hot in the gunplay department, and sometimes you're far too quick at shooting first and asking questions later, but…"

"Team mates. You want to be team mates."

"Maybe."

Aeryn sighed. "Like your baseball."

John nodded. "I suppose."

Aeryn laughed sardonically. "So you want to play your Earth game - baseball?"

"Not quite."

"You want to try and get to first base."

John laughed almost gleefully. "Not quite. No."

"But you want to _play the game_?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "I'd like to try."

Aeryn bent down and picked up her wet towel. "Here team mate," and she flung it into his chest. "Clean this."

John was left holding the towel, smelling very much like Aeryn as she walked away and he could not help but notice the smirk on her face.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Aeryn

"The standard side arm - a Peacekeeper pulse pistol - masses three picogs and is zero point one five motras long. It fires a Chakan oil standard cartridge and the magazine holds 600 rounds at full charge. Here." Aeryn handed her pistol to John Crichton.

John took the thick pistol and hefted it. "It's heavy."

Aeryn rolled her eyes. "The safety switch is here and is engaged but keep your finger off the trigger."

John sighed.

"What? You've never fired a gun?"

"Not that often."

"How often?" Aeryn had her hands on her hips confronting John. She sighed softly as the Earthman cautiously held her pistol.

"Oh… a few times."

"How many - exactly."

John laughed. "You really want to know…"

"How many."

John looked at the gray metal weapon and bounced it in his hand. "This is a killing machine."

Aeryn laughed sardonically. "Whatever is the matter, scientist? Too _warlike_ for you?"

John tried to hand it back to her.

She shook her head. "No. Unless you plan on having me or Ka D'Argo within earshot for the next twenty cycles or more, you'd better learn to use a pulse pistol. Given that Crais has put a bounty on both our heads, he won't be giving up the hunt anytime soon." Aeryn cleared her throat and shook her head making her long hair flick side-to-side. "Hunting for you _and_ me."

John looked down the length of the maintenance bay at the man-shaped target that Erin had drawn on a stack of cargo containers. "You want me to shoot this thing - in here? If I hit the hull I could blow a hole right through Moya's side!"

She sighed again. "Until I am sure that you can be trusted with how to hold it, aim it, service it, let alone fire it, _this_, is where you will spend one arn every solar day, until I know that you can be trusted with live charges. Understood?"

John rolled his eyes. "Yesss…"

"Good. Now take the weapon in your shooting hand - finger off the trigger. Hold the weapon at arm's length and with your left hand grasp your right wrist."

Feeling slightly foolish, John did as directed. "Like this?"

"Put the top of the gun at the line of sight of your eye and the target and don't slouch!"

"Like John Wayne."

"Who?"

"The Duke."

"Yeah, right. Flip the safety lever, that's by your right thumb. Push it down - now squeeze the trigger, halfway."

John saw a tiny red dot appear on the target, what he thought of as about fifteen meters away, but Aeryn knew it as 10 motras. "Laser sight."

"Training kit," Aeryn. "Aim for the upper left of the chest."

"The heart."

"No sense wasting a shot - that is if the target is Sebacean."

John looked to the side at Aeryn's severe look. "Every shoot's a kill shot? Blood thirsty."

"Peacekeeper's are trained not to waste ammunition."

John's eyebrows rose. "Shoot to kill."

"Unless it's suppression fire."

"Sure." His voice dropped.

Aeryn ripped the weapon from his hand and jammed it back into her holster. "If you're not _interested_…" she sniffed, "just inform us of your human funeral arrangements so we know what to do with your body." Useless human!

"Aeryn! Come on!"

Aeryn crossed her arms. "If you're not interested in training…"

"Just…" he took a deep breath. "I need some time."

"I first handled a weapon when I was eight cycles of age. How old were you?"

John coughed and Aeryn heard half a word she did not understand.

"How old, human."

John crossed his arms in frustration. Should he tell her how old? Oh, what the hell. "Fifteen."

"Fifteen?" Ridiculous she thought, but seeing the pensive look on Crichton's face she hesitated before saying more. Crichton wasn't a Peacekeeper and had not been raised to be a soldier - from birth - like she had. "I was on my first combat raid at fourteen cycles. But I was tall for my age."

"_Fourteen_? You were in combat when you were _fourteen_? A teenager?"

Aeryn nodded. "The primary target had already been secured."

John looked at the overhead then back at her. "Secured."

"Yes. The enemy positions had already fallen."

Different rules, thought John as he looked at Aeryn. "Fallen."

"Yes."

"So before I had ever handled a gun…"

"I was a combat veteran and had been in training as a Prowler pilot for two cycles."

John sighed. "Give me the gun." When in Rome, he thought.

Aeryn looked at the human, holding his hand out to her. "Changed your mind, then."

John felt a rueful look go to his face. "What would the Duke do?"

"Who?" She shook her head.

"Just give me the damn pistol, Aeryn."

She took the pistol out, checked the safety was off, and gave it to John. "Take the pistol in your right hand…"

John sighed. "Sure. Sight at the heart."

Aeryn looked at the solidly built human with some small admiration. At least he had a pair of gonads, she thought.

**Notes:**

**Metra = more than a kilometer (~1500 meters?)**

**1100 motras = one metra**

**One motra = 1.363 meters = 53.687 inches**

**Peacekeeper pulse pistol was about 7 to 8 inches long.**

**Chakan oil = a combustible oil derived from Tannot root that powered pulse pistols and rifles.**

**Arn = roughly equivalent to one Earth hour**

**Solar day = About one Earth day**

**Cycle = About an Earth year**


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

D'Argo

Ka D'Argo piloted the transport pod, fighting cross winds in the lower altitude as storms marched across the sky of this desert world. "Frell!" he said as he wrestled the controls. The view out the forward ports might have been called beautiful, if the wind storms hadn't been trying to tear them apart since they got into the lower atmosphere. A vast red desert stretched before them strewn with random up thrusts of eroded bluffs and twisted rock spires.

"Want me to take over?" Aeryn offered. "If you're not up to it."

D'Argo snarled. "I have control, _Peacekeeper!_" He spat the last word as a curse. He hated all Peacekeepers and _kill on sight_ was his motto since they had chained him to a wall onboard Moya for eight cycles. No, he knew that wasn't true. His wife was a Sebacean woman and it was her brother, Macton, who had found where he had hidden his family. From that moment, D'Argo hated Peacekeepers, and had wanted to kill the Prowler pilot he'd dragged from the craft that Moya had captured, but the Pa'u Zhaan had intervened.

The bald Delvian had taken the black-clad figure in hand. "I'll put her in a cell, D'Argo. There's been enough killing for one day."

"And the other one?" D'Argo had asked, prodding the prone figure in the orange coverall with a heavy boot.

Zhaan smiled. "The same."

D'Argo had argued with the blue female that all Peacekeepers should be _traelic_ fodder, but Zhaan held up a blue be-ringed hand many solar days back. "Calm D'Argo. Find what peace you may at this moment. There may be reasons to dispose of them _later_. But for now… _no_."

That Peacekeeper, Officer Aeryn Sun, now sat next to him at the dual pod controls. D'Argo growled under his breath with frustration at his companions, the weather, the balky pod controls, and his enforced exile in the Uncharted Territories. Still, he was alive, and while there was life, there was the chance - a slim one - to find his missing son, Jothee, and to avenge his murdered wife. He glanced over at Aeryn who was now as much an outcast as the rest of them.

"What?" the woman asked.

The strange figure in the orange coveralls had _not_ been a Peacekeeper it turned out. A human, he claimed and not a warrior either. Crichton, his name was John Crichton, and D'Argo found the man to be a strange mixture of bravery and bluster, knowledge and ignorance. Another lost one. Not a prisoner but a hunted man now - hunted by Bialar Crais - and he was far more dangerous to have onboard Moya than anyone could have known on the day he dropped into their laps.

Yet, D'Argo reasoned, Crichton had an odd mixture of skills that were useful. He could tear apart most mechanisms and repair them, or even create new devices from a pile of junk. John was ignorant of everything in this universe and he was also moody, rude, and a hindrance. But he was the type of being that did not give up. He recalled the times that Crichton did not give up and those times had saved _all_ their skins. Humans were _useful_.

If D'Argo imbibed enough _altol_ he could almost imagine that the Sebacean woman by his side was like his wife. But Lo'Laan Tal was much taller and thicker and her hair was a glorious orange. He sighed at the sweet memory, one that competed with the rage he felt whenever he got too near Peacekeepers. "Nothing." Altol, the acrid blue liquid, would give his mind the freedom to remember all the sweet days he had shared with his wife and their young son. His wife and son… he had to blink his eyes and fling his head about, his head tendrils flailing.

Aeryn rolled her eyes as the pod nearly flipped on its side as a violent gust hit them. "If you say so…" She looked back with a cocked eyebrow at John Crichton where he hung onto his seat grimly.

"I'm good," he muttered, "I'm good Aeryn. Just keep that in mind, John old boy." He gulped trying to keep his last meal of pink crackers down. "This sure beats Coney Island! Hey D'Argo, do you think you can flip completely over next time? I haven't quite upchucked!"

"Crichton!" shouted back D'Argo. "When you know how to pilot a transport pod, then I'll be able to ride in the back and criticize!" the Luxan scoffed. "Until such time, I suggest that you do whatever it takes to keep that big mouth of yours clamped shut!"

"Touchy, touchy, D'Argo," said Aeryn. "John has been learning."

"Yes! And since you and he crashed the one _he_ was piloting into a trap the pirate Kcrackic set, that doesn't say a lot about his piloting skills, does it!" D'Argo yelled back.

John harrumphed. "D'Argo! That net was undetectable - invisible to all our sensors!"

"And If Rygel didn't eat so frelling much, we'd not have to make a food pickup!" grumbled the big Luxan. "Then we could watch these storms from orbit!"

"Yeah, well considering we ate the last of the rations this morning…" Crichton burped as a fragment of pink cracker tried to come up.

"Boys, boys," muttered Aeryn. She shook her head and glanced back at John where his restraint belts were cutting into the human's groin. Yes, boys, she thought, and she felt herself flush recalling the feel of John's lips on hers and his… male body… against hers as they hugged fiercely aboard the crippled transport, just a few days ago. "Calm."

The Luxan wiped at what passed for sweat from his brow ridges. "These wind shears are…"

With a giant crack, a bolt of lightning split the air right in front of the bouncing pod, flinging the craft onto its nose.

"Viscous!" Aeryn grabbed the controls to steady the craft and for a few seconds she and D'Argo fought for control together. They might have been able to control the craft but for a random air pocket that dropped the tail just as a tall rock spire scraped the starboard propulsor. Then the lights went out.

"Thrusters gone!" screamed out D'Argo. "Brace yoursel…" Anything else he might have said was lost as the pod slammed down viscously onto red sand.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Rygel

"And when I have regained my rightful place on the throne of Hyneria…" Rygel droned on as he usually did. Yes, he thought, but before I feed my cousin Bishan a fragment at a time into the sacrificial fire, I would personally deprive the false ruler of certain prized body parts. First his brow ridges, then his ears and fingers and then…

Zhaan listened with half an ear to the tiny gray figure as he floated imperiously about the command deck. She was devoting most of her attention to what Pilot was telling her about the planet below.

"Surface temperatures are bearable for Sebacean and Luxan life forms. I would not recommend that you or Rygel descend." Pilot's clipped tones echoed through the echoing command chamber, his face appearing on a tiny holographic screen to the Delvian working there.

"Thank you Pilot," Zhaan smiled at the screen showing the large crustacean many tiers below. "I believe that is excellent advice."

"You are quite welcome, Zhaan."

The blue Delvian nodded as she always did when she spoke to Pilot. Pilot was such a gentle being, and one that they all owed their lives and very existence to. She was certain that if Pilot had not managed to goad Moya into star bursting that fateful day when the control collar broke free, they'd all be dead or worse.

"So when I have reestablished _my_ line and thrown that usurper cousin of mine into the fires…" Rygel went on, his one-half motra frame riding his hover chair like a throne.

"_Yes_, Rygel," sighed Zhaan.

"What?" Rygel braked his hover chair to a halt in front of the console where Zhaan was monitoring the planet below. He maneuvered it so his eyes were a fraction of a motra above hers so he could look down on her. "What's the matter you giant blue bitch? Don't you believe that I have the right? NO! It is a solemn and sacred duty!"

In a lightning move, Zhaan reached out and grabbed the tiny Hynerian by the throat. "Rygel… _enough_." Her voice was soft yet deadly.

Rygel tried to draw back, but the Delvian's grip was like a _stellac grabber._ "Ulp! Zhaannn…" he gasped, "I am only…"

"Yes, Rygel. Yes." She said softly. "But if you persist on ranting on and on, who knows what might happen?"

"Just what are you insinuating?" Rygel hissed back. "Are _you_ saying that _something_ might happennn…" his voice stopped when her fingers tightened on his upper vocal cords and he could suddenly only suck air in tiny sips.

"Dear, dear, Rygel. I am only saying that even though I am a ninth level Pa'u priest even _my_ patience is tried by your incessant complaints, bickering, and speechifying." Her fingers slackened slightly.

"Erhh…" he gasped as he started to spit out a response, but he saw the fire in Zhaan's eyes and he certainly felt her ire through the clamped fingers about his neck. "_Perhaps_… I have been…"

"Yes, Rygel?"

"Uh… I _am_ Rygel the XVI, _Dominar_ to over 600 billion subjects. I don't need to justify myself to you! However…" he gulped as a strong hand tightened on his throat once more. "I shall consider… _tempering_… my comments."

Zhaan released the Hynerian. "Thank you, Rygel." She placed her hands together in front of her chest and bowed slightly. "I am certain that as a very principled and self-sacrificing ruler you will always do what is best for your people."

"Uh, yes. Yes! Of course." He backed up his chair slightly and straightened his robe by his thick neck. "I shall consider your counsel, Pa'u Zotah Zhaan. Very wise council." He harrumphed once more. "Thank you, Zhaan."

Zhaan smiled slightly and kept her palms pressed tightly together to keep from strangling the tiny and overbearing figure. Rygel was pompous but was also not without his pride. His posturing was one way in which he could attempt to rebuild some measure of his self-esteem. She did not know him extremely well from their time together on board Moya, but given it was _he_ who had gained the security codes which enabled their escape plus the Hynerian had endured Peacekeeper captivity for over 130 cycles they owed him. Zhaan bowed slightly again to him. "Dominar."

Rygel grimaced; his flat and hairy brow ridges rising as he did so while the deeper parts of his brain imagined sinking a blade to the priest's neck. He sighed.

"Is there a problem, Rygel?" Pilot inquired. "I infer from your deep body rumbling that you are upset."

"Yes… I…" Rygel turned his chair from the screen. "That's from the _dren_ I had for first meal!" How in the frelling universe can Pilot hear his lower stomach growling? How good was Pilot's hearing, he wondered? What else does that giant sea slug hear aboard Moya? Or does Moya actually hear all and tell _him_? Rygel sighed once more at the thought of so many mysteries and difficulties since his cousin Bishan had clapped him in a cage and sold him to the cursed Peacekeepers.

"I agree, Rygel, that the food supplements we've all been eating have been less than…"

"Acceptable!" roared the Hynerian. "Horrible more like it!"

Zhaan sighed at him. "I was about to say that they have been _nourishing_. If not exactly tasty." Zhaan knew hunger of both soul and body and the lack of a few filling meals was far from what she was able to endure. Yet others were not as strong.

Rygel whirled on the Delvian. "I'll tell you what Zhaan! The next time that all we have to eat are those frelling dren-like pink wafers, I shall gladly give them all to you!"

"Thank you Rygel," said Zhaan, "but considering that there are no actual edibles onboard at the moment, that time will have to wait."

"No more food? No blue food cubes?"

"Sadly no."

"You can have the pink wafers - can't stand them myself - but surely there must be some food?" the tiny Hynerian deposed monarch spoke sadly. "Perhaps some of the orange patties? Or the dark purple strings? The ones I like to munch on between meals?"

"No, Rygel. There is none." Zhaan smiled and watched as Rygel's face drooped in disappointment and fear. "Not until D'Argo and the others return with supplies from the planet below."

"None? No food?" Rygel gulped. For a Hynerian missing one meal was tantamount to starvation for other species and the frelling Peacekeepers had kept him locked in a cold cage with food just out of reach - just out of reach - and they had laughed while he wasted away. How many solar days had they tortured him in that way? No food? His jaws clenched together as his guts expelled a blast of helium in panic.

Pilot's alarmed voice broke into his thoughts. "Zhaan! Rygel! I have been monitoring the transport pod in its descent to the surface. I have lost their signal!"

"Probably just out of our range," squeaked out Zhaan's voice in a slightly higher register as helium mixed with the air in her lungs.

"No! My tracking device shows that they are still in range of Moya's comm systems. But the tracking system shows that they have landed!" Pilot told them.

Rygel laughed. "Then they have found a different mining outpost then the one they were originally heading to."

"No Rygel. You are wrong," Pilot said. "Their tracking signal showed that at the end of the transmission the pod was falling from an altitude of twenty motras at a velocity of zero point zero three heytch!"

Zhaan swung her intense blue eyes to the command panel. "Then they've crashed?"

"I fear so, Zhaan." Pilot's voice said calmly but his eyes showed great concern in the screen image. "I doubt they were able to survive at that velocity. Moya's transport pods are designed for vertical landings only at very slow relative speeds. They must be lost!"

**Notes:**

**Stellac grabber = a sort of snagging vine that once it has grasped does not release**

**Frell (frelling) = equivalent to a very bad curse word**

**Dren = offal**

**Heytch = standard unit of spacecraft velocity - no known Earth equivalent.**


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Zhaan

"Lost?" Zhaan's plaintive voice echoed across the command deck.

"I fear so." Pilot's face in the screen appeared sad, yet fatalistic.

"I won't accept it."

"Hah!" Rygel sneered. "We'd best be off, then." He steered his chair toward the star charts. "Now… let me see…"

"No!" shouted Pilot.

Rygel started "What's that?"

"I said NO!" shouted Pilot. "They are our… my…"

Zhaan's head snapped up at the harsh tone to Pilot's voice. "Pilot, what are you saying?" She dabbed at a bit of sap that trickled down her cheek, for although she looked mammalian, she was in fact a giant plant. "I've never heard you say anything quite like that."

"I said, _no_, Zhaan," the giant crustacean answered. "We shall not abandon them. My, our… crew!"

"But, Pilot! You said there was no hope."

"I did not, Rygel. I said they were lost and that I doubted that they had survived a collision with the planet's surface. I did not say that I _knew_."

Zhaan smiled with relief. "So there is hope."

"There is always hope, Pa'u Zotan Zhaan. There just may not be any _practical_ hope that they are still alive."

"Fine," Zhaan wiped her cheek free of another tear. "Isn't that wonderful, Rygel?" She pressed her hands together for solace.

Rygel's chair dropped near the deck in time with his drooping head. "Oh, yes, Zhaan." His voice was sarcastic and caustic. "I suppose we need to go down and at least see if there is anything left to bury, or whatever. Besides, we need food."

Zhaan almost took a step forward to throw the Hynerian against the wall, but a small voice inside her head stopped her.

_No, Zhaan. You don't want to do that. The time of violence is over – long over. That time is past; the dead past now. How many cycles? _Pa'u Bitaal said,in the voice of her long dead lover. _No. Never again my dear Zotan Zhaan. Not ever must you even consider doing that._

Zhaan gazed at the floor, dropped her head and her palms pressed together once more as she knew Bitaal was oh so correct; so very correct.

Rygel stared up at the Delvian, who was nearly three times his height when he deigned to actually stand on his weak and scrawny feet. "Zhaan?"

Zhaan heard Rygel's words but ignored them. How many cycles had she listened to Bitaal's voice? Ah, yes. It was for seventeen cycles; very long cycles. Three on Mekkar VII then six in various other places, then the last eight onboard the Leviathan Moya. But what were seventeen cycles compared to her age of 812? But it was not her great age that saved her mind and soul from the madness of violence, especially that she had done herself. No. It was on a very dark day – the rations were once more withheld for another three solar days, her water was foul and polluted and the guards had taken her robe and fouled it with their body waste. She might have suicide right then and there but then Bitaal had spoken – one word.

_Seek._

The guard outside her foul cell watched in amazement as Zhaan stripped off her tattered robe sat on the cleanest part of the floor, and as naked as the day she was sprouted, assumed the prayerful position of the Pa'u – as a priestess of the Goddess of the _Delvian Seek_.

The Peacekeeper had approached the bars. "What are you doing?" he shouted.

Zhaan ignored him as Bitaal's word rang in her skull and through her soul. _Seek. _She had felt a surge of calmness wash away the hate and pain – hate of herself and for the pain she had caused to Bitaal – the one she had murdered with her mind. She saw all her past and felt the agonies and regrets wash away as dust after a peaceful rain.

The Peacekeeper had backed away with his rifle leveled at her head, then broke and ran screaming down the tier. His companions found him rolled into a fetal position mumbling about powers and vibrations, with vacant eyes staring through them. The whole incident had been hushed up for a Peacekeeper never broke, yet on Moya, one had.

His team was told later that the man had died from theta radiation exposure, but it was whispered that a doctor had administered a kill-shot to him.

The team wrinkled their noses is disbelief, and were all relieved when as an entire unit, minus one, they were transferred back to the command carrier leaving the Leviathan far behind.

Zhaan could dispassionately recall those times and that day in particular. It was the day that had cemented a nearly constant smile on her face for that day she became free of the most terrible of her own demons. Yet those demons, bottled up and sheathed in the dim recesses of her mind, whispered _murderer_ to her and called her _Zhaan aku Bitaal_ – Zhaan that killed Bitaal.

She looked now kindly down upon Rygel. Poor deposed Dominar for he was another of the Peacekeeper's tortured souls. "Yes Rygel," she straightened her back and let hands fall to her sides. "We must now go about finding the transport pod and rescuing Aeryn Sun, Ka D'Argo and the human John Crichton."

Rygel ran a stubby finger along a brow ridge. "And just how, my giant blue bush, do you propose to do that? Hm?"

Zhaan smiled broadly and calmly. "Good question." She took a large breath and said calmly, "Now Pilot, place us in a geostationary orbit over the crash site and let us plan."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Aeryn

"It's really cold in here," Aeryn said to Crichton as they huddled together in the wrecked pod adrift in space.

"Colder than a frog's ass." John reached over and pulled her close, as the ruined pod hissed and creaked about them, while the giant invisible net of the Flax held their tiny ship.

Aeryn didn't mind the warmth of his body and, in fact was surprised it felt so good to be so near him. The air was thin and growing thinner after her failed attempt to repair the crushed atmosphere mix line. Considering that she had less than 180 microts to use the kill-shot injection on Crichton, seal and inflate her enviro-suit, depressurize the ship, make the repair by welding, then reverse the process it was doomed to fail; all in a desperate rush to save John's life for his pressure suit helmet had been damaged. But for that they could have done the repair with ease, and the welding would likely have been successful. As time ran out and Aeryn recovered from a spill she had to use John's Earth method of reviving him when the kill-shot reverser drug had been spilled.

"You should have kept working, finished the repair. You'd have survived," John muttered, which was remarkable as the man should be dead.

Her mouth had fallen open. "And be sitting here alone now?" She had looked at his face for long microts. "I chose not to." Aeryn had followed John's quick instructions and the _sea pea arrrh_ method he'd taught her had worked. He'd insisted on doing that and thankfully his primitive backup method had been useful. She was panicking and frantic until his still form coughed and rolled over.

"I thought Peacekeepers were trained to fight alone; survive alone. Die alone." He said this matter-of-factly as his warm arm kept her clamped against his side.

"Well… it appears my training is failing me." She sighed. "I don't want to die alone."

John had hugged her tightly sharing his warmth, but something more it seemed as she felt herself flush and it got harder to breathe. "What did you see?"

"Hm?"

"You know; after the kill-shot when you were dead. Did you see the things that humans believe in? Light, friends…" John had told her about the Earther heaven and it sounded fantastic and totally unbelievable for as Sebaceans believed when you died, you died, and that was that - nothing more.

He answered slowly. "No. I didn't. All I saw was black." He glanced down then turned to her. "I don't know, maybe Sebaceans are correct - there is nothing after this." Aeryn had looked away as raw emotions surfaced in her. "Maybe," John had gone on. "Maybe… I wasn't supposed to die that time."

Aeryn said, "Well, maybe you'll get to find out for certain _this_ time." To her amazement, she'd felt tears well up in her eyes. She turned her head slightly to see John's very Sebacean-looking (but human) face bit his lips then grimace. She'd watched a pulse in his neck; one that didn't have long to keep going, since the atmosphere was being used up. But his lips looked lovely and his eyes - his eyes…

She recalled smelling his maleness, an almost thick scent from his skin and breath, and hair and before she knew it she'd raised her chin, opened her mouth and putting her hungry lips on his, found him responding in kind.

With a fierce move he'd taken her in his arms and she hugged him back desperately then pushed him backwards and rolled atop him trying to join and their _frelling_ suits were in the way!

She sat up, pulled the suit fastener open and shucked it from her torso, with his help and his warm hands trailing too briefly down her chest. Trying to pull her suit off, and while trying to get the neck ring off over her head, John lay on the floor doing much the same and as the smell of his sweaty body and a brush with death hit her, she felt even more excited, even more ready… really, really ready to mate with this human if it was the last thing she did!

And just it seemed that things would go to a quick and predictable ending, she heard a sound at the pod hatch and the vibration of clamps engaging to their hull. "Somebody docking?" she'd shouted in both amazement and anger as they were trying to strip off each other's environment suits.

Then the pod hatch opened in a gust of fresh atmosphere and the hatchway was filled with the tall figure of D'Argo. Aeryn rolled off of John and pulled her suit closed, and throwing her long hair back from her eyes tried to look… suitably rescued and not saddened. But she was sad - so, so sad.

D'Argo had laughed with his eyes, clearly being able to tell that something was up - or nearly so.

"Aeryn!" the voice was insistent. "Aeryn! Wake up!"

A large hand shook her shoulder and she jerked semi-awake. "What?" she mumbled. "Frell…" came out next as a headache hit and seemed to explode through her head and through the pain succeeded in noticing Crichton leaning over her and she was down on the deck on her back… The memory of their moment of madness days ago faded as she smelled burnt insulation, too hot air with aches and pains penetrating her mind. "It was a dream," she said softly.

Crichton sat back on his haunches. "We crashed."

She sniffed. "Fire?"

Crichton sighed. "A little one. It's out."

She squeezed her eyes together and tried to sit up. "My head… hurts."

A hand pushed her back down. "No. Stay. You and D'Argo got the worst of it up front."

"D'Argo?" She looked at the empty saddle. "Where…?"

"Outside. A little banged up, but you know D'Argo. Not much slows him down." John chuckled. "He's got a broken arm, not that he let me do much for him." He shook his head. "He did let me strap him up, that's about it."

Aeryn lowered her head onto soft material, startled.

"Survival blanket - as a pillow. You've been out for about a quarter arn and you'll likely have a hell of a shiner, from hitting the control panel. Any double vision, anything like that!"

"No." She tried to shake her head and it hurt - a lot. "Shine? I don't shine."

John laughed at her.

"Aeryn, you have no idea," she heard him say then let pain wash over her once more. She felt herself slide back to the pod memory and this time her memory went further into fantasy. She ran her hands down his neck and muscular back while her legs parted and pulled him to her body.

John looked around the wreckage of the pod where the nose was crushed in with smashed window material scattered over everything. Burned cables dangled in a scorched bundle and some viscous liquid gurgled and dripped from a broken line. The air inside the pod was hot and growing hotter as the planet's sun rose above the desert sands heating the rocks on which the pod lay canted like a broken toy. He wiped sweat from his face and wondered just how hot it would get today? And how long was day and night on this world?

He glanced down at Aeryn Sun and winced as he looked at the mess about them. "Oh, Aeryn what a damn mess; a total foul up!"

"John…" Aeryn murmured.

"Yes, Aeryn?" he asked softly.

"John," she licked her lips.

"Aeryn?"

Her arm lifted and grabbed at his hand.

"Aeryn? Need something? Water?"

Aeryn heard him and tried to speak, but darkness pulled her down. While part of her wanted to hold him to match her imaginings, another part of her mind was quite repelled at the idea of touching this alien being. But… but… she _wanted_ him so. The last thing she heard was his voice calling to her plaintively, "Aeryn?"

**Notes:**

**Aeryn's memory of the transport pod adventure when trapped by the Flax took place in Season 1, Episode 13 - "The Flax"**

**Four minutes equals 180 microts, so one microt equals one and one-eight seconds.**


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

D'Argo

D'Argo pulled at the too tight binding that Crichton had strapped about his arm, holding it to his chest and felt a whisper of panic – a relic of being in Peacekeeper restraints for far too long.

"Aeryn? Hey! You in there?" John Crichton's voice echoed from the open hatch of the wrecked pod. "Come on Aeryn! Wake up… please?"

D'Argo stuck his head inside and asked, "How is she?" He saw John sagged to the decking next to the prone woman clutching her hand. D'Argo exhaled through his beaky nose. Frelling Peacekeeper! If she hadn't tried to take control he could have landed them! No, he stopped himself, swallowing his rage. Aeryn Sun was not a Peacekeeper – not anymore.

"She's out cold. Came to for a little while." Crichton shook his head. "Shit!" He pounded a fist against the deck.

"What's that?" D'Argo asked. "I didn't get that."

John sighed. Why was everything so hard all the time? He sighed. "It means dren."

D'Argo laughed. "Sometimes the translator microbes don't work as well as they should. Especially when the speaker and the listener are under stress."

John looked around the wrecked ship. "Well, we sure are under stress."

"It's getting hotter outside," D'Argo commented. "And we'll have to find a way to keep her alive, John. Sebacean's can't…"

"I know," answered John. "Can't take the heat." John had seen how her race could fall into heat stroke so easily and if left untreated for long, would lead to an inert state that was irreversible. He looked around the wrecked pod. "Can't stay in here."

"Local sunrise was an arn ago and it's already up to _thirty-five ferencs_."

John shook his head as the translator microbes clearly could not convert that into degrees Celsius. "We need to find a cave or dig one."

D'Argo unslung his qualta blade from his back. "Why didn't you say so?" he smiled. "Let's find a spot. Come on Crichton." D'Argo led the human, although at times when he was tired or depressed, he found himself thinking John looked too much like a Peacekeeper. When that thought came his holta glands fed jolts of kemlac into his body. Then he had to resist grabbing the man and throwing him against a wall. Knowing that was the first step of the Luxan hyper-rage, he pushed his aching body outside where the sun had lit the world with an orange-red glow.

John shielded his eyes from the light and as his eyes adjusted to the glare, laughed as he saw their surroundings. The pod was tipped at an angle at the base of a dark red rock face, which towered a hundred meters above them. On all sides, the landscape was filled with tall eroded mesas, some split into fantastic shapes, like extended fingers. Other formations were thin spires, capped with broad tops of a lighter rock. Most of the rock was colored in shades of orange, shading to darker reds and grays at lower levels near the desert floor. He could see layers of rock, sediments; both thick and thin. "Man. Bryce Canyon meets Monument Valley." He laughed. "A geologist's paradise."

"Bryce Canyon? Monument Valley? Who is this Bryce?" asked D'Argo.

John shook his head. "Just reminds me of home." He bent down and picked up a handful of broken rock, pebbles, and fine talus and saw lighter bits including yellows and whites. "Don't imagine I'll ever see Utah or Arizona again, D'Argo." It did look a bit like the American southwest, complete down to scrubby bushes along with green spiny plants that might be cactus.

"We all miss our friends, John," D'Argo stated. "Where you close?"

"No," he sighed. Something's would just take too long to explain. "Now about finding shelter." He felt sweat break out as he stepped into direct sunlight. "And water. A little sunscreen wouldn't hurt either, and a _hat_."

D'Argo stomped away towards the rock face which towered above them. "I see cracks in the rock." When Crichton spoke as he had, less than half his words were understood. Perhaps _Utah_ was his mother? Then that would make Arizona his father. No, John said his father's name was _Jack_. He walked thirty paces with the human following then Crichton ran ahead to the rock and ran his hands over the rock wall between fallen boulders, some as large as Aeryn's Prowler.

"Looks pretty solid, but there are cracks… Do you think you can blast those rocks right about there?" John pointed to the rock face. "See where the cracks join? I can feel cool air. Must be a cave inside."

D'Argo lifted his blade, flipped the primary trigger and the blade split apart into two halves, the energy projector exposed between the bronze colored cutting edges. He lifted it, but it swung wildly. He tried again, left handed, and it fell off to the side. "I'll need a help here."

John took the unfamiliar weapon from the giant Luxan. "Odd feel."

"It is a Luxan warrior's weapon. You are holding the blade that was passed down to me by my grand-father."

John looked at it dubiously.

"Hold it as you would a pulse rifle."

"Uhm…" John stuttered. "Aeryn's only let me use a pulse pistol, so far."

D'Argo shook his head in sorrow. "You have no weapons such as these on your Earth."

"No, we don't."

"Hold it with the stock at your shoulder and sight along the edge of the blade. Press the third stud by your left hand; that engages the coil. It is then charged. Take aim. Squeeze the trigger when ready." D'Argo explained as he would to a child. These humans must be a backward race! He had used small blades when a mere boy and he'd begun to train his son in the art, when they had to go into hiding. He growled and flicked his head as the pain came back.

"Arm hurting you? I broke my arm when I was ten – riding my bike. Hurt like…"

"Crichton! I do not wish to discuss your childhood, the lack of weapons training on your world or how you will never see your mother Utah! Just press the trigger!"

Startled by the outburst, John's finger twitched and an expanse of rock many motras across was pulverized. The brisk hot wind blew the dust aside and a dark opening became visible. "Ala kazam! Ala kazoo!" John shouted. "Wow! Open sesame!"

D'Argo gave him a confused look as those words made no sense at all.

John handed back the blade to the Luxan and poked around the opening. Finding no falling rocks, as the energy bolt had fused the surface it had hit, he entered the wide opening and found a small natural cave stretching for twenty meters or so into darkness. He exited and waved to his friend. "Looks alright to me! Let's move Aeryn in here. A lot cooler."

D'Argo stood in the hot sunlight feeling every ache of the crash and a fractured arm. Crichton was dirty and dust streaked, barely having survived a spaceship crash, but here he came trotting back to him smiling and chuckling.

"I like your qualta blade, D'Argo. Makes a great mining tool."

"It is a _weapon_," he sneered.

"Okay. But it also digs great holes." Whistling an off-key tune, John went towards the pod to get their shipmate.

D'Argo shook his head in amazement. Humans! "An odd race," he muttered then followed John to help move Aeryn.

**Notes:**

**Ferencs = conjectured to be similar to Celsius degrees of temperature. 35 ferencs is about 95 F.  
**

**Qualta blade = a Luxan weapon combining a double edged sword with an energy rifle**

**Prowler = Peacekeeper two-seat fight and attack craft. They have twi n-engines are heavily armed and are fast and maneuverable.**


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Crichton

John Crichton, Astronaut, he thought. Great, just great! He looked over at Aeryn, who lay on the rough ground on a pad of insulation he's ripped out of the pod. Her color looked better since he'd carried her inert form into the cavern. He touched her forehead tenderly to feel her skin temperature, or so he believed, but then his fingers trailed down her temple to her cheek, the briefest of a touch to her soft lips, then to her thin, yet firm shoulder. The fingers squeezed gently. "Aeryn you have to wake up." She'd not stirred since their short exchange a half arn ago and he was worried. Her pulse was slow and steady and her breathing was regular, so he guessed she had a mild concussion, assuming Sebaceans got concussions.

He looked around the rough cave. The walls were wind carved, or so it appeared, and the dim light rod he'd activated made the shadows not as deep and dark. The red and orange rocks, now dimly lit, looked lighter but not any more inviting or softer. He sighed. Should have followed in my grandpa's footsteps and been a plumber. "It would have been a hell of a lot safer of an occupation," he muttered.

"What's that?" D'Argo asked him as he stood in the blasted out doorway, his frame blocking most of the light, which was growing brighter and hotter.

"Plumbing. Grandpa was a plumber."

D'Argo rolled his eyes. "Sure, John. Whatever you say." He sat down stiffly and leaned against a large rock across from John and Aeryn. "The comm in the transport is out."

"I guessed."

D'Argo drank some water from a flask.

"How many of those do we have, D'Argo?"

D'Argo held up five fingers. "There would be more, but the main reservoir got cracked. It all spilled into the equipment bay. That's what took out the comm system."

John nodded. "Figures. Murphy's Law."

D'Argo chuckled. "Another of your Earth heroes. Like John Wayne or Elvis?"

"Sort of. Murphy was an inspector in the Second World War…" John's voice trailed off.

D'Argo jumped. "World War? The second one? How many have you had?"

"It was a long time ago, D'Argo. And we've had two. But it led to radar, rockets, computers, better medicine…" he stopped himself thinking how stupid it sounded. He gulped. "And spaceflight."

D'Argo laughed. "And _you_ think the Peacekeepers are bad? Two of _your_ world wars?"

John looked at the dirt floor and toyed with a rock by his hand. "Not proud of it. It was a less civilized time," he said, yet looking at the Luxan, he knew that was not the case. "I hope." Other wars and police actions danced through his head. "I really hope that's the case," he muttered.

D'Argo hooted and tossed a pebble at the human who jumped as it hit his boot. "So… you are a warrior race! And I underestimated you!"

"We're not all warriors, D'Argo. We have teachers, philosophers, farmers, machinists, physicists, and doctors too." He turned and stared at Aeryn's slack face. "I think we need a doctor and soon."

"Peacekeepers are tough, John. Tougher than you know." D'Argo said then snarled as he'd jolted his broken arm.

"And you, big guy? The arm?"

"I'll heal, Crichton. I was thrown by a metlak when I was six and broke both my legs. I healed in a few days."

"What's a _metlak_?"

"Big. Six legs. Eats meat and it would have eaten me if my grandfather had not killed it with his qualta blade after it threw me and stomped on me."

"And you rode this thing? When you were six?"

D'Argo sat up a little straighter. "Yes. When all the other children had been either too scared outright or had already been tossed off, I had vaulted onto its back and rode it for _fifteen_ microts. Fifteen! Not even my nine cycle old cousin could do that." The big Luxan laughed loudly and shook his head.

"Ah, sort of like a horse, but it would have eaten you."

"Horse?"

"Tall animal, four legs, we ride them."

"And they eat meat," D'Argo asked.

John smiled. "No they eat grass and grain."

D'Argo frowned, and then sneered. "A plant eater? Well why in the Seven Moons would you bother to ride a plant eater? What's the challenge in that?"

John thought of those people who went swimming with sharks, skydiving off cliffs, and skied down avalanche chutes dodging rocks at breakneck speeds. "Well, my friend," he sighed, "There are a lot more dangerous things than riding horses."

D'Argo rocked forward and on his good hand and both knees crab-crawled across the cave. He looked John hard in the eye from a fraction of a motra away. "You called me your _friend_."

John nodded. "Yeah, I did."

D'Argo rolled his head to one side then to the other. "On the fake Earth, you were defending us and I heard you use that same word with that counterfeit human, Walter. The mean one." D'Argo was referring to the encounter eighteen solar days ago when they had found a wormhole in space, and John had left in his module and dove onto it, as he claimed he could see a blue-white planet at the end that was his home world.

Rygel, Aeryn and D'Argo had followed for reasons that they would never admit to themselves were not entirely selfless. They all hated to see John Crichton leave them and Moya and so when the wormhole, that twisted tunnel in space-time, had reformed and stabilized they had followed him through it. There they had been imprisoned by humans that claimed to be John's friends. But it was an illusion - some sort of test by alien beings that were examining humans and John's world. The alien creatures were not seeking them harm but the trials they had forced John into, and the decisions he had made, had brought them all closer.

"Yeah," said John. "Walter was as mean as they come and so was Cobb. And I _did_ call you a friend. Just like Zhaan, Pilot, Aeryn, Moya, and even Rygel." He chuckled. "Even Sparky." For some reason John had been calling Rygel '_sparky'_ when he knew for certain the Hynerian was no friendly green Muppet like Kermit the Frog. Quite the opposite in many ways for Rygel was a liar, and a cheat, and sometimes a thief.

The Luxan laughed. "But there are moments when I'd gladly send Rygel out one of Moya's airlocks - without an environment suit!" He wrinkled his nose. "Something smells."

John sniffed discreetly at his damp armpits. "Sorry D'Argo. Moya doesn't exactly stock deodorant."

"No. Not what I mean." D'Argo's nose started twitching. "Something… was here." He rose and stalked around the edges of the small cave. "Something… was in _here_. But not now." He was looking high and low and only saw rock walls and ceiling and the dirt and dust on the floor.

John waved his hand in front of his face. "Dust - from your energy rifle."

D'Argo shook his massive head. "No," he said definitely. "Some _animal_ was in here." He sniffed the air again then relaxed. "But not now."

John felt Aeryn's head. "She doesn't feel as hot as before. The cool of this cave may help her, certainly not hurt her."

"So no pod, no comm to Rygel or Zhaan. No food and now little water." D'Argo brushed at his pants. "We need to find some."

John stood and took D'Argo's elbow. "You stay here with Aeryn. Let me scout around. Maybe I can find…"

"A Commerce Planet just around the next rock?" The Luxan laughed sardonically. "Surely you'll not find anything so useful."

"You never know, D'Argo. You never know." He looked down at the unconscious Peacekeeper renegade at his feet. He'd thrown the aluminized survival blanket from his module around her torso to keep her warm, for there was a chill in the cave from the cool walls, but it was far better than in the furnace outside their refuge.

D'Argo squatted down by Aeryn and brushed a tangled strand of long black hair from her face. "I'll stay. You go. But don't go too far." He tapped a metal clasp on his red tunic. "The local comms seem to be working, far as I could tell."

John stepped to the opening and shading his eyes stared at the desert outside. "Not very nice, is it?"

D'Argo didn't answer. "Zhaan and Pilot will be looking for us," he said with the force of fact. Rygel was likely whinging about leaving them to their fate but the others would not leave them so lightly, he felt certain.

John pulled the pulse pistol from the holster on his hip. "I agree." He brushed a bit of dirt from the stock. He grimaced as D'Argo watched him. "Just in case."

D'Argo nodded. "Good idea, John my friend."

John knelt for a moment and kissed Aeryn's forehead.

"Ah… it's like that," hissed D'Argo. "I had wondered about you two."

John nodded and pressed his lips together. He wasn't exactly proud that he and Aeryn had sex, hard to call it making love, back on the fake Earth, all of which was an illusion built up from his memories of Australia. Was it only having sex? Surely it was more than that, right? They had been exhausted and on the run after escaping their jailers; desperate too, and they'd each drunk a cold beer - one of those giant bottles the Aussies served.

Aeryn had liked the beer he remembered. She'd also liked John's body, she had said so. He'd enjoyed being with her too, although back in the day he'd always gone for the tall blondes, but that night and the next morning, they'd proven, at least to themselves, that humans and Sebaceans were compatible; more than compatible with the whole tab A and slot B thing.

John sighed loudly. "Yeah D'Argo." Far more than that. The first time was quick and hard but the second was tender and caring; a _lot_ more caring.

John turned towards the door of the cave holding the pulse pistol at the ready. "Be back soon, honey," he said, then stepped through into the heat and glare.

**Notes:**

**Fake – Earth = The faux Earth was visited in Episode 16 of Season 1 – "A Human Reaction" **


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Rygel

Rygel was grumbling and mumbling, in a foul temper as he hadn't eaten in more than an arn. "Oh this is torture!" he winged.

"What's that Rygel?" Pilot asked in his bland, not male – not female voice.

"I was… examining… the scanner readouts!" Rygel snorted in an annoyed tone. "There is so much ground clutter down there I don't know what the _yutz_ I'm expected to see! For all we know they hit one of those rock cliffs down there and were dashed to splinters!"

"Here," Pilot interjected calmly. "I have sent additional scanner wavelengths to your console. By matching common features, we may be able to see the transport pod."

Rygel shook his small and lumpy head. Was he expected to understand all this dren? When he was on the throne of Hyneria he had armies of minions and technicians to worry about such things. He sneered and was about to answer smartly, when he stopped. That was all 130 cycles ago. His cousin likely had all his experts, and especially his advisors, put to the sword or to the farms to pick crops, so he could install his own. Rygel realized with a start that he was still alive because he had been kept 'safe' by the Peacekeepers. He let air flow from his small nose and he tried to recall the glory days of his reign, but it was so long ago.

"Rygel?" Zhaan's voice screeched over the communicator pinned to his robe. "I have been reviewing the most recent scanner files. I fear that if we don't find the others within a few arns they may not survive the temperatures on the surface. How's it coming?"

Pilot spoke. "I have sent Rygel more detailed scans, Zhaan. I wish I could give my undivided attention to the search, but there are a number of _housekeeping_ duties that Moya needs to have attended to."

"Not much of a house," humphed Rygel as he peered at the ribbed ceiling and walls of the control chamber. It was a far cry from the prime hot season on Hyneria. He missed a good soak in the thermal baths there, a cool breeze blowing down the slopes of Rygel Mountain, the brallig trees releasing their glittering summer spores, the air scented by his female attendants and mates plying him with drinks while bathing him with warm mud…

The deck shifted momentarily and he could have sworn he heard a deep pitched grunt at the same time.

"What the yutz was that?" he asked in alarm.

"That was," Pilot cleared his throat, "Moya merely adjusting our orbit to maintain the same position over the presumed search area." Pilot rolled his eyes at the small lie he'd just told, as Moya had suggested to him that she close the pressure seal to the command deck and depressurize the compartment. Pilot had rapidly damped down that impulse. He too found Rygel to be, he searched for the word, _difficult_. "You should be getting better readings in the next few microts, Rygel," he stated firmly, all the while soothing the Leviathan with reassuring impulses from his tertiary nerve plexus, while sending up the latest scans. "These scans are more highly multi-spectral. They may help you to separate rock from metal, I hope."

"Shall I assist you, Rygel?" asked Zhaan. "Or should I keep working on protective measures for our surface excursion?"

Rygel shook his bullet shaped head. "No… I can… manage," he said grumpily. The decks shifted once more tipping his hover chair slightly. "Frell! Pilot! What are you doing down there?"

"Pilot?" inquired Zhaan from down in her laboratory space near maintenance bay four. "Is something the matter?" Zhaan cocked her head and listened carefully. "Shall I come up to your den?"

Pilot cleared his throat again. "No, Zhaan. Moya is… fine."

Zhaan detected stress in Pilot's voice tones and something else as well. "You're quite sure?"

"We are… fine, Zhaan. Merely - busy," Pilot lied. He'd sensed impulses from Moya that were upsetting to him and to the Leviathan even more than the thought of spacing Rygel. Since Aeryn had recovered from the botched and horrific genetic experiment that put Pilot's DNA into the Peacekeeper, the Sebacean had acquired a special empathy and affection for the Leviathan Pilot. Pilot felt those feelings most deeply, especially when Aeryn would come to his den to talk. Officer Sun would perch on the console before his station and actually hold a conversation with him or she would hold his upper left claw and stroke it. None of the others did that, except for Zhaan who provided him with the composure he needed to have at times.

As he had pondered over such a close connection with Aeryn, Moya had sensed those along with him. Now Moya was grieving the loss of the landing party; but especially Aeryn Sun. "She'll – they'll be alright," Pilot said aloud. "We merely have to find them."

"Yes," replied Zhaan, feeling strength of character from Pilot that she often felt. He was a steady pilot and a good friend. She sighed. "I'm coming up to see you."

Pilot shook his head, a gesture he had learned from Sebaceans as well as John Crichton. "That is not necessary Zhaan. Complete your preparations."

"Zhaan! Instead of you praying your Delvian priestess nonsense over Pilot, why not help me with these frelling sensor readouts?" Rygel shouted. "They make about as much sense to me as…" he searched for a word, "teaching calculus to a Luxan mudskipper!" He wrinkled his nose. If Aeryn had learned the necessary medical skills to save his life, then it was the least he could do for _her_. The silly Peacekeeper had apparently protested that she was _only_ a commando and a pilot - and not a med tech - yet she had healed him from poisoning picked up on the planet Sykar. "Yes, Aeryn, you did. You did heal me," he sighed.

Zhaan pressed her lips together and lowered the modified Peacekeeper enviro-suit she was working on. "Yes, Rygel. I shall. On my way." As she walked to the upper tier she pressed her palms together and prayed for strength of purpose and luck. For if what Rygel was saying was the truth then finding their friends would be no picnic. She wasn't sure exactly what a _picnic_ was, but having heard Crichton say it a number of times during moments of crisis she got the gist of it. In a swirl of blue robes she hurried towards the command deck.

Rygel bent his neck towards the screen covered with multi-spectral images. As he looked at them he started getting nauseated, until he adjusted their axes and overlapped them atop one another. "Almost got it…" then the screen dimmed. He pounded a three fingered and one thumbed hand on the panel in frustration. "I had it! You frelling thing! It was there, just for a microt! Then you went dark!"

He beat both hands on the dim screen and it lit up so he could see a blinking round circle attached to a tiny bright speck. "That's better." He stroked the panel. "Are you a girl panel? Perhaps if I treated you better? Sorry." He rubbed the screen and the image grew brighter. "There, there. Uncle Rygel won't hurt you. Now show me that frelling pod!" As he spoke the screen grew brighter. "Yes… that's much better…"

**Notes:**

**Yutz – indecipherable! But you can make a good guess!**


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Aeryn

Aeryn had told a lie to John; just a little one. She _had_ been on a combat raid in her fourteenth cycle; that much was true, but the outcome was not as benign as she made it sound. The Scrubrunner they'd given her to fly was old, scarred, and weary. Every surface of the cockpit that hands, feet, or body could routinely touch were worn free of paint, the aluminum surfaces shiny with wear and scratches. She settled her bony body into the seat, adjusted it for height and tilt, then checked that she could reach the controls after cinching the belts as tight as she could bear.

"Steady there, young one!" admonished the ground support crewman. "And relax! Don't look so grim. From the look on your face you'd think you were going into combat against the whole Scarran battle fleet!" The voice chuckled not unkindly.

She looked to the side at the tech who wore the groundside camo-khaki coverall suited to this planet's terrain and vegetation. His face had a long scar from his forehead down to the corner of his mouth and it had healed crooked. Aeryn realized the grin he wore was not always his intent. "You've cared for this craft?"

"Oh yes." He ran a rough hand tenderly along the cockpit coaming. "Quite a few metras on this baby. She was flying long before you were gestated! Might not look like much, but the engines are sweet - just overhauled - and the electronics have been upgraded. Just keep the electronic counter measures fired up and you'll be fine."

"This is a supply run," Aeryn said. "The briefer didn't mention anything about enemy action in the area of Advance Base Delta."

The man's face dropped. "I'd be careful out there, youngster. The locals don't exactly want us here - know what I mean? Not after what we did to their capital."

Aeryn had seen the destroyed capital city on the shuttle flight down to the surface. It had been flattened after the local government had capitulated but then started a guerrilla war. The reprisals had been swift and measured, but when the Peacekeeper installed governor had been kidnapped, along with his Peacekeeper garrison, that had been the last straw. The destruction of the city had been done with explosive bombs and energy bolt strikes. Twenty metras from the place she could still smell the stench of thousands of bodies rotting in the rubble. Aeryn shook her head. "I heard they slaughtered the Peacekeeper garrison. They deserved it."

The tech nodded. "Yes. They did. I… suppose." His face went dark. "You be careful out there, Flying Officer Sun. You might end up missing your skin, if the locals get their claws on you."

"My rank is probationary."

The tech reached into the cockpit and extended his hand which she took. "All the same, young one. Keep the ECM on, follow your leader, and bring this bird back." He smiled. "She's my favorite." He released her slim hand, backed aside a step and pushed the external stud that closed the canopy. He snapped a salute then turned and waked away.

Aeryn felt a strange connection to the nameless tech, who had spent many arns caring for craft such as this. How many planet falls had the tech made? And he didn't have to be nice to her, as this was her first real mission - training flights didn't count. This was her only her third time on an actual planet and being on _ground_ still felt so strange after growing up on a carrier. An overarching sky instead of an overhead, ground and not decking, and the smells - dirt, trees and plants, the feeling of hot and cold gusts of air and _no_ controlled environment! How did ground pounders stand it?

The Scrubrunner's engines started smoothly, she advanced the revs, made a communication check with her flight leader - she was third in the flight - and as the craft lifted on downward firing jets, dust and leaves blew across the landing pad.

Her last view of the pad was the technician throwing her a jaunty salute, which she returned.

That flight was supposed to be simple. Fly one hundred and twenty metras on a heading of 217 to the advance base, offload supplies, then load troopers rotating back to the main base and return. A simple mission, one the VTL Scrubrunner was eminently suited for. In later years she would learn from Crichton to think of it as a _milk run_. Her cargo was rations, medical kits, and energy weapon charges. She wondered what the tech had told her. So the locals were still resisting? Didn't the primitives understand what the Peacekeeper squadron in orbit to do to their world if they wished? They could melt the planet down to the mantle! She sighed at the infantile actions of the natives. Stupid creatures!

The vertical takeoff or landing craft were boxy shapes with a large cargo or passenger compartment, a projecting cockpit on the nose for the lone pilot, and stub wings on which twin rotating jet engines provided both lift and forward thrust depending upon orientation. Suited for planets with oxygen atmospheres of a broad range, they were well built for missions such as this - supply, patrol, medevac or fire support. She had a flechette rapid-firing gun in the nose, a rocket pod mounted on the left wing root and a short-burst energy cannon on the other wing. Scan returns showed open country, low hills on the right, with steeper slopes to the left. The flight would vector up this broad valley, turn along a river, and follow to the base. Enemy action was supposed to be zero in this region, so no worries there. Yet the tech was worried…

Aeryn followed the flight leader, call sign _Dagger_ up through scattered pink clouds lit by the rising sun. She breathed excitedly cool air in the cockpit, did not mind the chafing of the worn straps across her shoulders and thighs, and in some ways was disappointed as it felt very much like a training flight simulation.

"_Dagger Three_, pull in tighter, will you?" the clipped voice sounded in her earphones.

"Affirmative." She advanced the throttles slightly and pulled closer to the leader. They were flying in a chevron formation, and now with her nose thirty motras off Dagger One's left wingtip, she got tucked in for the mission.

"Better," replied Dagger One. "Stay tucked in, no matter what." The leader, an older woman named Vallek Luced, looked back and gave her a nod.

She clicked her microphone button twice to acknowledge the command and tried to relax. Many microts passed as they flew steadily. The air grew incredibly clear as they flew along, leaving scattered clouds in their wake. Aeryn enjoyed the view and the feel of flying.

_Dagger Two_ called out to her. "Hey youngling!" Dagger Two's pilot was a young buck that had a rep with the ladies and though Aeryn Sun was only fourteen cycles, she'd heard of him, or worse, been warned about him. "Enjoying playing with the big toys? Maybe you'd like some _raslak_ later?"

"Watch out for Inex Shalex," her section leader had told her. "He likes them pretty… and young. Don't let him get _too_ close. There are rules, but _that_ one is not ever too picky about the rules."

Aeryn cocked a wary eye over at the twenty-five cycle old pilot of Dagger Two flying on the other wing their of flight leader. "What you want, Shalex?"

"Can the chit-chat, Inex!" shouted Officer Luced. "Keep your mind on _flying_ and not on that young pilot's ass! Got it!"

Shalex fell silent and Aeryn could see past her right wing the rude gesture the man made at the lead aircraft.

Aeryn shook her head and kept her mind on flying and not any amorous advances of the older pilot. She'd been warned about the older men and women who wanted the attention of the younger pilots - for all sorts of reasons. Not that she would mind discussing flying but not what Inex likely wanted from her. She sighed and tried to relax, keeping her mind on the instruments, the weather, and the position of her Scrubrunner relative to the leader.

Nothing much happened for a while, until they made the turn at the bend of the river and started to descend. That's when bright flashes destroyed Dagger One and blew most of her right wing off. "I'm hit!" she screamed as she pulled back both throttles and put the craft into a spiral. A quick look across at Dagger Two showed the craft jinking and turning away, when the world got larger in a hurry and trees tore at her craft.

She'd felt exactly the same when the transport pod had crashed on the desert planet - an incredible sense of failure. "Help…" she managed to say until a branch drove thru and impaled her arm.

"What's that Aeryn?" D'Argo asked as he squatted in the dirt by her side. His arm was killing him and the pain made him sick, in spite of what he'd told Crichton. He was tough but even Luxans had their limits.

"Help… Dagger Three… down…" muttered Aeryn.

D'Argo took her hand. "I'm here."

"Need pickup," she went on not seeing the cave or D'Argo next to her. "Luced… gone…"

**Notes:**

**Raslak = an alcoholic beverage**


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Crichton

The sand was hot and the air even hotter as the sun rose higher over this world. John pulled his makeshift hat, torn from a tattered rag, over his head. "You'd make a lousy desert dweller, John," he muttered, tugging at the rag until it didn't slide down. "Can't even drape your head properly." Yet it did shield his head and provide some shade for his eyes.

He had wandered a few hundred meters from their makeshift camp but it all looked about the same other than different rock colors and wind-carved shapes. The pulse pistol had grown heavy so he had holstered it. "Nothing out here anyway," he muttered. "Just sand, rocks, and thorny plants." He bent to examine one more closely. "Sorta looks like a barrel cactus, but redder."

John knew that cacti stored water inside, but you could not drink their fluids directly since it was very acidic. "Thank you Boy Scouts – Desert Survival 201," he muttered. "Or was it IASA? Whatever. But…" he opened a bag he'd brought, hacked a few cacti, or whatever they were, down and carefully stuffed them into a bag. "Might as well do an experiment."

He shuffled back towards the wrecked pod and rummaged inside. "Ah ha!" He picked up a cargo box, a smaller container that fit inside the first, and a roll of film that looked nearly clear and was stretchy. "One solar still coming up."

The larger cargo box went out in the sun, where there was no shortage of sunlight, with the small container on the bottom in the center. He dropped sliced up pieces of cacti into the space between, then stretched the visqueen film over the whole thing, where it clung to itself and the outer box. A small rock he put at the center of the film to push the film downwards. In a few minutes, he could see condensation form on the film, where it ran down and dropped single drops at a time into the center pan.

"There! Now in a few arns we'll have," he peered through the misty film, "about half liter" he guessed then shook his head. "Not enough." He squinted at the sun which was now about three hand spans above the horizon, and heat waves danced in his vision. "Oh mama, gonna be a hot one today." John opened the still and pulled the cup with a few drops of liquid out. He sniffed at it and sensed nothing pad. "Here goes." He tipped the few drops into his mouth. The liquid was tasteless and warm, but it was water.

He got busy and set up two more stills using up all the cling film. "That makes a liter and half per day." John knew that they'd each need nearly three liters of water a day and D'Argo probably more. "Zhaan and Rygel had better get down here quick or all they'll find will be our dried out corpses," he told himself matter-of-factly.

He dropped himself into the shrinking shade of the transport, seated on another transport container. He'd circled the craft several times before he headed into the shade surveying the ruin. "Lucky we didn't buy the farm." He laughed. "John old boy, that is a phrase that only you will _ever_ understand out here. One phrase among many." His head naturally tipped back and rested against the warm metal. "Sorry, Moya. I guess we wrecked another of your pods. That makes two. One in the Flax Net and then here in downtown Utahville." He sighed. "I wonder how many cycles it takes her to grow more pods?" Amazing that a creature, part mechanical and electronic, could grow new machine-like extensions of herself.

John sat there in the shrinking shade, squinted in the brightening day and pondered how he'd got here while tossing a rock from hand to hand. "Oh, Dad, this was all a huge mistake; but for that wormhole I'd be back home." The wormhole that sucked him across the universe. Would he ever see his dad, Jack Crichton, again? The little tape recorder he used to record his thoughts and observations, presumably for his father, was back on Moya, but he spoke aloud anyway. "Dad, it looks like Utah out here, which is funny. If you were here, you'd laugh at how similar it looks." He scanned the scenery where nothing looked different, just hotter with shorter shadows. His fingers rubbed at the rock in his hand. "That's a fossil. A crinoid? Crinoids used to be on earth until an extinction event wiped most of them out. But Sebaceans look a lot like humans so it goes to figure there must be a lot of other species that are the same or nearly so out here. I wonder why that is?"

His mind traveled to a certain Sebacean sheltered inside their dugout. "Dad, you'd like Aeryn. I sure do." John smiled. "A lot." He closed his eyes and drifted into memory.

On the faux-Earth he and Aeryn had escaped their captors and found the townhouse where John had stayed when his module's propulsion system was being tested. At that point in time they still thought of the place as Earth, in what John thought of as Sydney, Australia,

The townhouse interior was just as he remembered which he found out later was _exactly_ true for it had been constructed from his memories.

Aeryn sat next to him on the bed and sipped at a beer. "You call this _bear_?"

"Beer. Aeryn. It's called beer."

She tipped the bottle up again and drank. "I like it."

John was exhausted, disgusted, and on the run. "That's great Aeryn." He put down his large Aussie bottle. "I need to…" he stood up, "use the facilities."

"Let me go first?" Aeryn asked.

The bathroom was just as he recalled after Aeryn was finished in there. He washed his face and arms, even finding deodorant in the cabinet - his brand. There was even a toothbrush that looked just like his. That should have added to the preponderance of evidence that it was all a sham. John was too tired to care so he turned out the light, stumbled into the bedroom and saw a slim figure under the sheets. "Oh… yeah… sorry, Aeryn… I'll use the other bedroom."

He got a few steps away when she called out to him. "John?"

John had sighed. "What now?" All he wanted was sleep.

The woman in the bed sat up. "Sleep with me." Her voice was flat and without emotion, almost a command.

John turned to her and he saw she was naked. He didn't trust himself to speak but he sat down on the bed far from her. John barely got his jeans off when she attacked, but in a nice way. "Aeryn… I'm… not sure…" he stammered, as it was hard to speak while she ran cool hands down his back as she tried to climb atop him. "This is…"

"John," Aeryn said huskily, then put her mouth on his while pulling his Calvin Kline's down.

"Aeryn…" he managed to say, breaking her deep kiss. "We don't have to…"

"I _want_ to."

"_Oh_," the lost astronaut said. "What about… uhm…" It was hard to think while she pushed herself up against him. "Aeryn, sorry - I have no idea, what Peacekeepers… uhm… use…" saying this he was trying to pry her lovely body off his but he didn't want to.

She smiled brilliantly in the dim light filtering through the blinds from the city. "Contraception? That's a problem for humans?"

"Oh yeah," he replied. "It is; oh, it is."

Aeryn rolled away from him. "You really are an alien, aren't you?" She crossed her arms. "You _don't_ want me."

John muttered, "Sorry Aeryn." He thought of the Peacekeeper technician, Gilina, who was as different from Aeryn as could be - in temperament, looks, and coloring. Yet Aeryn was here and they'd almost… well… got involved, when the pod was stuck in the Flax and they were going to die. John raised a hand and touched Aeryn's face.

Officer Aeryn Sun looked quite hard at him. "This is _your_ world. _I'm_ the alien here and now I'm the stranger."

John rolled onto his back. "No Aeryn, you're my…" his hand reached over and took hers and her fingers latched onto his desperately. "Friend. That okay? And I do want…" he swallowed. Maybe more than a friend, he had thought.

"They're going to catch us in the morning, John."

"Most likely," he answered and squeezed her hand. "But…"

"But?"

John grinned. "For now…" he kissed her.

Aeryn turned back to him and no more words were needed.

N**otes:**

**IASA = International Aerospace and Space Administration, the organization that launched John in his orbital module mission in Earth orbit. And then a wormhole came along…**


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Zhaan

She entered the command deck and found Rygel draped over the scanner screen, drooling and chortling. "Rygel, what ever are you doing?"

The Hynerian straightened up. "You know I do believe that this screen has a personality."

"You do?" She stepped to his side.

"If I talk nicely to it, it actually does my bidding… sort of." He sniffed. "At least it works better if I do that."

Zhaan looked over his shoulder. Peacekeeper graphics were never easy to interpret yet she had learned to read them to some extent. "I see you're scanning the western edge of the dune field down there."

Rygel nodded to her. "Pilot says this is the most likely place. Here." His stubby hand stabbed at the screen. "Pilot reports that Moya has found large metallic outcrops, or whatever they are, some of which conform to a transport pod… erh…" he gulped, "general size and shape; or bits of." He shook his head, now quivering. "Zhaan, what if…"

Zhaan put her hand on his shoulder and tried to send him calming thoughts. Delvians were not telepathic, exactly, more empathic with other races and she was not sure if her emanations would help. "Rygel, we'll have to keep looking until we find them."

Rygel somehow felt like his legs were dipped into an enjoyable and warm mud bath. "Zhaan… I don't now what you're doing…" his voice trailed off contentedly. He straightened up and his spine grew rigid. "Yes! I _am_ a _Dominar_! My name is Rygel the XVI! We shall find our crew mates!"

Zhaan lifted her hand from his shoulder and then he felt his eye ridges, those expressive hairy eyebrows that Hynerians were so proud of, droop. "That is… we shall try…"

"Dear, dear Rygel. You _do_ care."

"Zhaan, of course I do!" he harrumphed. "After all they are our associates, crew mates, erh… our friends. I know that D'Argo can be loud and rude, that _frelling_ Crichton is babbling on about Earth this and Earth that – half the time I can't understand what's he going on about – and Aeryn…" His deep voice dropped to a whisper. "Officer Sun. Erh…"

Zhaan bent down to his level and stroked one of his eyebrows while peering into his small face. "I understand." Then she bent her forehead to touch his.

Rygel started at her touch. "Whatever are you doing, you giant blue tree? Stop that!"

Zhaan held the contact for a few microts. She felt Rygel's recent memories, plus the pain of his betrayal and abandonment just under the surface of his mind. "I am sorry, Rygel." She stood up and smiled down at him as he floated on his throne-sled, its antigravs whining softly. "I did not mean to intrude. Please continue your scanning."

Rygel watched as the Delvian walked from him. "Zhaan… I…"

She stopped and half turned. "Yes Rygel?"

"I've been wondering…" he snuffled, "what if we _can't_ find them? Or worse we do… and it's _not_ _good_?"

Zhaan stiffened. "I really don't want to think about that."

"But, Pilot said the conditions down _there_," he pointed out the large port at the ocher world, "are hot – very hot. They might be cooking up even as we speak."

"Rygel we will," her voice broke, "find them." She had to grasp a wall rib to steady herself and only the wall kept her upright.

Rygel cranked the control around on his throne and sped to her side. "Big blue woman," he sighed, shaking his head, "what if we don't? What then?"

Zhaan stayed stiffly silent for twenty microts as she tried to calm herself.

_Seek_, Bitaal's voice whispered to her.

If it was only that easy, she thought back at his ghost. No, no ghost, she knew; only a whisper of conscience and integrity. Yes – integrity. She inhaled deeply and blew out air from her lungs, now enriched with oxygen created by her respiratory metabolism. Animals breathed in oxygen and exhaled carbon dioxide, while flora-life such as herself, did the exact opposite. "Rygel, would you please go back to the scanning console?" she managed to say keeping her voice calm.

He floated upwards on his chair so his mouth was near her ear. "I miss them too," he whispered, and then as Zhaan stayed silent and motionless, Rygel the XVI, deposed ruler of 600 billion Hynerians, drifted back to his task.

"Come, pretty console," Zhaan heard him coo to the display. "I need your help. I am looking for a tiny speck of metal and flesh down there in that drenick inferno. Now," he coaxed, "let's go back and look at this quadrant once more. And, we'll do it again and again until we find them. Right?"

Zhaan could not bear to speak so she stumbled down the corridor and around the curved tier. She paced unsteadily for quite a distance until her legs failed her and only then did she slump to the deck, quite overcome with grief. Sticky tears flowed from her eyes. "Oh Goddess!" she implored with hands held to her face. "Protect them! Save them!" A quarter of an arn later she managed to calm herself enough to sit upright and only then noticed a curious DRD close to her feet, beeping enquiringly. A blue hand stretched out and she tenderly touched the tiny device. "It's alright little one. Nothing to fear." Zhaan knew that the DRDs all fed information to Moya and Pilot, and was certain that the bio-mechanoid had been keeping a camera focused as her as she was overcome with grief, just in case she needed help.

The deck rocked slightly as Moya adjusted their orbit once more. Again her hands rose to her face. "Oh Goddess! Save us as well!"


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Aeryn

Crichton rubbed her left upper arm, where the faded scar made a splotch across her bicep. "That a scar?"

Aeryn was lying naked in his arms, trying to get to sleep, but there were too many thoughts whirling in her head. "Yes, John."

The scary moments of their escape, where they would go in the morning to evade their captors Walter and Cobb and the rest (John said he knew where they might be able to steal a plane), the fact that their jailers had killed Rygel and who knew what they were doing to D'Argo at the moment?

And then there was the topic of Crichton. They had recreatedfor the _first_ time not five hundred microts ago and in her heart she knew it was a giant mistake, or an act of despair.

The act was satisfying, even if done in haste; not quite as frantic as what they had tried to do in the pod when it was stuck in the Flax. She sighed as John rubbed her arm again. He was irritating usually, but at the moment, he was far from that. Oh yes, she arched her back luxuriously against him, far from it.

The man was mysterious, awkward, and frustrating. Of all the stupid things to do, though, having sex with Crichton had to be to the most foolish! Aeryn, you're an idiot, she thought. Officer Aeryn Sun, you _should have been_ drummed out of the military!

He lifted his head and peered down at her arm. "Looks nasty. The scar."

She turned and gave him a cool look. "It was. Do we _have_ to talk about it?"

"No," he said and kissed her shoulder. "Sorry to ask."

She turned to face him, her arms automatically hugging his bare body, in spite of her annoyed thoughts.

"Aeryn, I'm sorry if…" he stopped.

She sighed. "What are you sorry for _now_?"

John sighed. "Maybe this is all a mistake."

"Coming through the wormhole down to Earth? Or me, D'Argo, and Rygel following you down here? Or escaping?" Her hand stroked his back. "Or _recreating_?"

He sniggered softly and she could see his grin. "That what you call it?"

"Yes. Peacekeepers call it _recreating_."

"So you... uhm… don't make love?"

She shook her head. "That's pretty rare for us."

"Oh." John lay there silently and she felt him withdraw the tiniest bit.

"No more questions?" She guessed he was as curious about her as she was about him. Did he have a mate, or female friend on Earth? If there was, did he wish to be with her or were humans practical about such things?

She had heard him sing the words _love the one you're with_. Was that what humans did? If that was true then what they had just performed might be very similar to they way he acted at home. But his actions and reactions to her seemed to be… sincere… and thankfully Gilina the tech was long gone.

She shook her head trying to get all the pieces to fit but they would not. Recreating with members of her unit was encouraged as a necessary and healthful way to release psychic tension. But with Crichton… there were things about the act that seemed… well, just _right_ somehow and she had been _so_ lonely; so, so alone.

John snuggled up to her and buried his mouth in her long hair where it draped down her neck. "Alright. Been a long day. Sorry I asked about the scar. Night." He kissed her tenderly on the mouth.

In a few microts she heard his breathing slow and then he started to wheeze very softly. In spite of her better judgment she kissed his cheek. "John, how I got the scar was frightening," she said softly. She hugged his bare body to her and remembered long ago.

The Scubrunner had come to rest on the forest floor, breaking through many branches and trunks (words she knew only from learning tapes), and the wreck dug a shallow crater with a giant crunch that made her neck snap down and made her bite her tongue. Aeryn recalled being stunned at first, but she tripped the fire extinguishers to kill any engine fires, killed the power, then blew the canopy and tried to release her restraint belts. It was only then she realized her left arm was actually impaled by a long jagged branch that had penetrated the canopy.

Her scream echoed across the forest. "Frell!"

She heard the ticking of hot metal cooling, the rustle of leaves and branches and the calling of odd animal sounds around her. "Get up, Aeryn! Out of the cockpit!" she spit out. "Move it!"

The belts split apart with the release of one lever and she managed to crawl out of the seat and over the crushed nose of her aircraft. With some presence of mind she remembered her training, so went back for the survival pack and side arm and then dropped to the loamy ground.

"Yutz!" she muttered as blood dripped down her arm and chin as the world spun around her. She stumbled away from the wreck, her pulse pistol held in an unsteady right hand, tasting blood in her mouth and an ache everywhere, especially her left arm which was on fire. She tried to scan the forest around her, looking for enemies, but pitched forward feeling impact with the ground almost not at all.

"Got to…" she started to say as green leaves and gray trunks grew darker in her sight. "Get the… ELB…"

She pried off her flight headset and let her tired head rest on the dirt for a moment. "Come on, Aeryn!" she scolded herself. She was fumbling one-handed for the Emergency Locator Beacon, trying to tug it from her pack, when a furry gray foot with very long toenails came into her view and kicked the bag away.

A large-eyed creature bent down, stared into her astonished face and hissed, showing many pointed teeth, "My, you are a small one! Is this the _best_ the cursed Peacekeepers can do?" It was covered in fine gray fur, but wore leggings, gloves, kilt and a comm headset. It carried a Peacekeeper frag cannon like a toy.

Aeryn tried to roll away to get her pistol when a clawed hand grabbed at her arm.

"Fighting spirit?" the thing's mouth spat some liquid to the ground near her head. "Ah. Fiercer then I expected! Amazing!"

Her pistol was kicked away and her hand released. The creature squatted down, fragger held ready, and stared at her from two or three motras away. "Name?"

Aeryn sighed, rolled to her side sat up.

The thing backed up quickly. "Don't move," it told her.

Aeryn's right hand probed at the dirty piece of wood projecting from her arm, then took hold of it. She gritted her teeth and started to pull.

"Stop!" the thing said. "Do you want to bleed to death?" It scurried over and examined her wound. "You need a healer!" Soft fingers pried at her hand and made her let go of the stick. "No," it told her softly. "Let go!"

"Why should you help me – a Peacekeeper prisoner?" She was tired, so tired, and the edges of her vision were growing dark. "You shot me down."

"Yesss," the thing hissed and patted the stock of the cannon. "Two today." The thing spat past her once more. "Would that I could kill you all!"

"Go frell yourself!" Aeryn said, shifting her legs to spring at the native but crushing exhaustion swelled up and pulled her down. She was on the ground somehow and a strange odor, dead and alive, filled her nose. Reality was being nibbled away at the edges of her vision as shadows filled gaps between the trees. Another scent came to her nose; a warm animal smell and she felt herself being lifted gently.

"Ah, youngling," she heard the native say. "No wonder you are all such fierce fighters! They raise you that way from the start!"

Aeryn felt herself being carried, the thing walking in a loping stride. "Poor little Peacekeeper," she heard it say. "Pitiful little thing."

Then all was darkness, but a pleasant feeling persisted, as she was held firmly against a comforting and woolly chest.

**Notes:**

**Frag cannon = Long barreled energy rifle, multi chambered, able to fire multiple energy bolts in sequence.**


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

D'Argo

Ka D'Argo felt himself dozing as he waited for Crichton to return. He called him once and got no response on the comm unit. He wasn't surprised, though, given the short range of the things and all the interference expected from the many rock walls and pillars scattered about the desert.

Once or twice he'd gone to the cave mouth and peered outside. If John was out there, he'd better be taking shelter from the heat. Just standing in the shade it quite took his breath away. "How can anyone, or thing, survive down here?"

He squatted down by Aeryn, raised her head and trickled drops of water into her mouth. Her dry lips twitched as a slow tongue explored the dampness. "Water…"

"Yes Aeryn. While we have it." Drop by drop the Luxan warrior gave water to his fallen comrade. And to think that he had once wished all Peacekeepers dead! He shook his head, tendrils swishing behind his neck. "Peacekeeper – no! You are Aeryn Sun. _Peacekeeper_ no more. I suppose we're in this yutz of a mess together."

In her memories, Aeryn relived her capture, as the water stroked those long ago times. The water wet her dry lips, and groggily looking up at D'Argo, saw his features morph into a gray furry face. She kept muttering half words and phrases. "Vulped. It's a vulped!"

"It is okay, Aeryn," D'Argo told her. "If I know Zhaan, she's got Pilot and even that useless thief Rygel helping in the search."

"Search. Yeah search," she answered him back. "Search pattern." Aeryn had heard an aircraft over the forest canopy and from the engine noise it was a Scrubrunner, probably Inex looking over the wreckage of her craft.

She'd awoken in a small hut as a female native poked at her arm. From the comings and goings of the engine noise, Inex must be flying a search pattern. "Owww!" she yelled as the female and she recalled the natives were called vulpeds. "Must you do that?" she screamed at the female and tried to push her away. They had given her water at least but now… "What do you want?" she yelled.

"Little one… let me…" the female hissed to her captor, "she will not let me help!"

The male vulped squatted down. "I asked your name. You did not give it. I can understand why you do not trust us."

Aeryn curled around her mangled arm. "You shot down Luced and me! You killed my flight leader!"

"Yes, I did. This is _war_, Peacekeeper. And I will fight you, all of you, until my dying breath. But before I go to my rest, I hope to see _you_ and _your kind_ well away from my world." He sneered. "You were in a war machine. But that was then and this is now. Now you are wounded and in my custody." The creature looked down at her, then laid aside the massive frag cannon and opened his hands, palm up. "You are a prisoner, Peacekeeper. I formally tell you so and state that we will care for you, feed you, and tend your wounds."

Aeryn rose halfway and said, "Then you'll skin me alive later? I've heard what you do to your captives!"

The female bowed down to Aeryn. "No! Not at all! Who told you that?"

"Everyone knows…" Aeryn gasped as her injuries reasserted themselves.

The male looked at the female. "I am Rorx Metender and this is my mate, Helas Klaxix. Helas is a healer and I am an engineer."

Aeryn looked about the rude hut. "Sure. Like I believe that."

Rorx sighed. "Tell me your name."

"No!" Aeryn protested.

Hellas made a head gesture and the male moved across the room. "Child," she reached out and touched Aeryn's black braid. "May I please tend to your injuries? They are dirty and contaminated with mold, dirt, and who knows what? And tree sap, if that is ulurora wood, can be quite toxic." She held out her other hand to Aeryn. "Take my hand child. What Rorx said is true. We wish you no personal harm, merely that you leave our world." The female lowered Aeryn back to the floor onto a rough blanket.

"There's an entire Peacekeeper Attack Force in orbit, you pathetic creatures!" Aeryn spat back. "They'll be looking for me!"

Hellas sighed. "Do you wish to have them find you dead, child? Now…" she asked soothingly, "tell me your name." A furry hand took hers and she felt calmer for some reason.

"Aeryn Sun," she replied and didn't know why she did, but her arm was hurting so. Yet while part of her mind was seemingly cooperative, the rest of her was wondering how she could get out of this hut, where her weapon was, did Rorx destroy her ELB or was it hidden away?

"Now Aeryn Sun, I'm going to pull this stick from your arm. It will be painful, but once removed I will try to clean the wound and stitch the tissues together."

"Stitch?" Aeryn felt her eyes grow wide. "I don't suppose there are any tissue regenerators on this backwater world."

Helas shook her large head, which was slightly smaller than her mate's; her facial features less craggy. "I wish there was, Aeryn Sun. But when you Peacekeepers destroyed my hospital…"

"Hospital? You had a hospital?"

"Yes, we did. I was the chief surgeon. I have no anesthetic now for that was lost when a supply cache was found by one of your patrols."

"You're a surgeon?" Aeryn looked once more around the rude hut, but saw a small metal case on the floor. "What's that?"

Helas smiled. "This is my surgical case," which she opened to show gleaming instruments and vials of drugs. "Rorx, please give me the oopam."

A bowl of smelly liquid was forced under Aeryn's nose. "What's this?"

The healer smiled at her. "Not an anesthetic, Aeryn Sun. But it may help. All we have."

Vapors rose to Aeryn's nose and she saw bright lights appear while her arms and legs felt heavy. "What's happening to me?" she asked fearfully.

"Shush," Helas said and her voice, to Aeryn's ears, echoed and boomed oddly.

"Why are you helping me?" Aeryn managed to ask, her sore tongue now feeling furry.

"Because you are a child Aeryn Sun and you may not know what path you are following," Rorx said sadly. "I know that your people came for our terellium and we would gladly have sold it to you. But I fear that your kind only knows how to _take_ what you _want_."

Aeryn felt the world slipping away mostly. "No… nooo..." she said but all movement stopped. In the corner of her eye she saw Helas snap on surgical gloves and reach out to her bloody arm where the wooden spike projected out like an odd caricature of the Peacekeeper flag.

D'Argo leaned over Aeryn with great concern in his eyes, for she had been babbling and moaning about gray creatures and a doctor of some sort. "I am helping you Aeryn, for you are my crew mate and you are just another of Crais' victims." He patted her shoulder. "And my friend, I believe."

He sat up when he saw her eyes had closed once more. He shook his head gloomily. Zhaan and Rygel had better find them and soon. He feared that Aeryn was badly hurt for this in and out of consciousness and babbling on must not mean good news.

He was reaching for a water canister when he detected that odd smell from before; but much stronger this time.

His left hand reached out for his qualta blade and almost had it in hand, when he felt a sharp prick in the back of his shoulder. "Wha…?" was all he could say as he slumped to the ground.

**Notes:**

**Vulped = Bipedal and heterosexual humanoid mammal, native to Vulpak II. Furred, binocular vision, clawed fingers and toes. Tool user and city builder. Primitive spaceflight capability. Males average 1.3 motras tall, the females being slightly smaller. Adapted for the cool and fairly wet forest that covered most of that's world's continents. They were subjugated in Cycle 9,755 by Peacekeeper Strike Force **_**Dynamic Toil**_**,**__**after terellium deposits were found on that world.**

**Terellium = A basic ore used in refining the metal used in command carrier propulsion systems.**


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Pilot

Moya groaned and Pilot felt her frustration. "Moya, we are doing everything we can."

Her Voice buzzed in his head. "I miss them."

"I do as well, Moya." Pilot nodded, and of course he did not _hear_ Moya in any conventional sense.

"D'Argo amuses and amazes me, for he is but a boy, yet his heart is full of fire and bravery and apparently far more wisdom than one would expect." Moya fired lateral jets a few times and her decks rolled once more. "How is Rygel doing?"

"He is doing amazing well, Moya, given the Dominar is not used to such technical matters." Pilot sighed. "Yet at times I think that Rygel is more trouble than he is worth."

"Yet it was he who gained the command codes to release my control collar which freed me from Peacekeeper… dominance."

Pilot sensed there was more she wished to say. "Go on."

Voice paused. "Given that they wished to use me as an experiment…"

"One that is apparently proceeding quite well."

"I've never been pregnant before, Pilot."

Pilot nodded. "The DRDs and your internal sensors report that your baby is growing fine." Pilot had no fingers, but if he had he would be crossing them for luck (something that John Crichton had told him about).

Moya groaned. "And if Ka D'Argo had not broken the Peacekeeper contraceptive seal, I would not be expecting this offspring."

"Perhaps that was fortunate, although unplanned," Pilot told her. "My experience with… uhm… expectant Leviathans… of course is limited to _you_ Moya. And I know little about… such things… as reproduction."

"Leviathans have not been able to breed naturally for millennia, Pilot."

"Oh, I had no idea."

"For several thousands of cycles my kind has served the Peacekeepers. There is no group memory of any Leviathan birth in all that time that occurred from…"

"From?"

Amnexus system fluid surged and the deck took a nose up pitch. Internal ribs contracted as giant muscles contracted.

"Is anything wrong, Moya?" Pilot asked, now alarmed as he saw that internal pressure had gone up slightly while Moya's tylack neurons read very unusual activity. "Moya?"

His answer was greeted by a creaking as the decking returned to a common level as the grav return to normal. "No… Pilot."

"But," he asked, now feeling that something indeed was wrong. "You can tell me."

"This is… awkward… _mating_… Pilot. Leviathan mating."

If Pilot could blush, something that he envied the Sebacean and human in being able to do, he would be blushing. Instead his hard beak-like mouth fell open, his eyestalks rose, and he stared at the wall of his den. "Oh… I… had _no_ idea." Moya was thinking of sex?

Pilot heard a tinkling noise in his den. Was it an actual sound or was it through his link with the Leviathan? "Moya, what are you doing?"

Voice added trills. "Laughing, little one."

Pilot's race had been connected to the Peacekeepers for a very long time. He was very young when he was recruited for the Leviathan project. And back on his home world, Doien, he was far too young to even consider trying to find a mate. His triple hearts beat more quickly as the ramifications of what Moya was saying hit home. "Oh… I see," he tried to say calmly. "So the Peacekeepers artificially breed Leviathans."

"It is the way now," Moya said to him.

"That seems very unfair."

Moya rolled on her axis a few arcs then returned to her original attitude. She declined to say anything more.

Pilot watched Rygel work up in command while Zhaan labored at her workbench. "I never imagined…"

"Imagine what?"

"That I could be a sort of _step father_."

Moya laughed that time and the whole ship shook.

Rygel clutched at the edge of the display console. "Frelling Leviathan! Almost makes me wish…" No, Rygel, stop that he thought to himself. Be careful what you wish for, was an old Hynerian saying. There were so many ways he might have died. Bishan may have had hum executed when he overthrew him, or the Peacekeeper jailors might have killed him outright, or Durkas - that butcher - could have killed him in any number of ways - so… slowly. He looked about the chamber, the gold and bronze colored ribs making the walls and ceiling, and it was pleasing to his slit-pupil eyes. Not quite as extravagant as his many summer palaces, or his island retreat on Eska Prime, or… he stopped himself with a will. "One place is like another, as long as you're breathing," he said. "I'll have to remember that; add it to my autobiography."

The console beeped a few times as another scan was sent to it. Rygel sighed. "Oh for a better scanning system, or a working locator beacon, or…" One tiny shape on the scan caught his eye. "What's this? A handprint?" He rubbed at the screen with the hem of his robe and the shape did not change. He dabbed at the touch screen and the image expanded. "Hm…. Is it? Could it be?" He rubbed his broad mouth with his stubby fingers. "Pilot! Zhaan! You have to see this! Or am I going absolutely fahrbot?"

"Yes Rygel?" Zhaan and Pilot responded as one.

Rygel pulled himself erect on his throne. "I _knew_ I could do it," he whispered. Then he shouted, "Zhaan quit playing at priestess or mech-tech or whatever the frell you're doing! Get the yutz up here! I just may have found their pod!"

**Notes:**

**Amnexus = One of the many fluidic systems of a Leviathan.**

**Fahrbot = addle brained**

**Mech-tech = Mechanical technician**


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Crichton

John peered across the desert watching sunlight roast everything unless it was marginally in the shade like he was, sitting next to their wrecked pod. He saw heat waves dance in the distance, making the weird rock shapes all around seem to wave and shift. "Hotter than a two dollar pistol out here," he muttered. "Guess I should call in." He tapped the comm unit clipped to the red and black Peacekeeper vest he was wearing over a t-shirt. He spoke into the unit. "D'Argo? John."

All he heard was a static hiss. "D'Argo? Aeryn? Hey you guys? Anybody read me?" He stood and walked around to the other side of the pod, calling several times more. "Must be sleeping," he muttered than slogged over the scorching sands towards their shelter.

"Sleeping," he rubbed at his eyes. "A good idea. Siesta time." He hoped that Aeryn wasn't too badly affected by that knock on the head. "That would be bad if…" his voice fell, "something _really_ bad went down."

He shook his head, flinging sweat from his face, already evaporating as it departed his face. Hotter than hell; the Earth hell. John knew he'd bake if he stayed out much longer. Time to get into shade and the cave was degrees cooler than this oven. "Welcome to Inferno World, ladies and gentlemen or is it gentleman and aliens?"

A hot wind had risen, and he could feel water actually being sucked from his tissues. "That was a funny storm we got hit with on the way down. Must get frelling cold here at night and when that monster sun rises - boom! - massive storms from the atmosphere heating up!"

Fear and worry for Aeryn built up as he walked. He had not been able to tell Aeryn how much he'd been thinking about her lately. The woman was a warrior, no doubt about that, for her motto was to _shoot first_ and ask _no_ questions with all that Peacekeeper training. But she was enticing in a weird way, and she could push all his buttons just by walking into a room. Of course the black uniform had something to do with it, and how, but she was also vulnerable. John could see that in the last half a cycle she was changing - still very formidable but also vulnerable.

Their one night together - God - it was surprising, gratifying, and perplexing all at once and it was totally unexpected. It was fun though, and instructive. The Sebacean had responded exactly as a human woman would to their _recreating_, but it wasn't like making love. It was quick and sort of rough but John treasured the experience all the same. He'd been afraid to get that close to her, despite all the signals she was sending his way, for Aeryn's moods could turn on a dime. But there he had to pause at the thought – their _physiology_ – was the same, at least in all of their sexual organs and stuff. And OMG he had been so horny.

"Parallel evolution, John? Like that crinoid fossil?" He laughed. "All too much the _same_ in some ways and _different_ in so many others. I dated an alien chick," he chuckled. "Aeryn would whip my ass if she heard me say that. Oh Aeryn, what did it mean? Are we a _couple_ or was that just a one-off?" he rambled. "Hard to figure out John; so damn hard to figure. But you're the first human to make love to an alien woman. Not that you can go down to the corner bar and brag about it. Besides… I'd never do that… and I've got no one to brag to anyway," he said gloomily.

That morning as escapees he'd woken up with her arms wrapped around him and it was… nice… so nice to see her so… natural. Not natural for Aeryn, more human-type natural; like she'd hung up her Peacekeeper persona for one night. Once or twice in the night he thought he heard her say a name; _Tam_ or _Velorek_. John was too far gone in passion or exhausted to ask, but clearly she had a past. Oh yeah, a past, like that long pink scar down her left bicep.

He knew that they had to get on the run, get to the airport, steal a plane somehow, get into the Outback and disappear. And how would they find D'Argo and rescue him from the fate that got Rygel, who'd those bastards had dissected? But with her lying soft and warm against him, he wanted nothing more than to stay in that bed with her for a year.

She had stirred and her eyes opened quickly when she must have realized where she was and what they had done.

"Morning," he said.

Aeryn had pressed herself to him and started to - _do it_ again - and John could feel that she was calmer, kinder, more relaxed.

Then she had stopped, pushed herself away, and crawled from under the rumpled sheets. "John," she stood up, "we have to go."

He watched her walk (radiantly in his sight) to the bathroom and he sighed with regret as the door slammed on his vision of her lovely body. "Ah, Aeryn, I hardly knew ye," he said right then with longing, and again in the present with the heat scorching his feet, right through his heavy Peacekeeper boots.

He doubted that anyone within a few million light years had ever mangled Shakespeare in quite that way. "Yeah, Shakespeare," he went on, "and I should add Abbot and Costello, Howdy Doody, Jerry Springer, Bill Clinton, Bono and Bob Dylan to that list!" Far, far from home and no one out here knew who the hell Lou Costello was, let alone baseball.

How far away _was_ he from Earth? How many millions or billions of light years? "Carl Sagan, you got it right!" he shouted and only his voice echoed back from the rock faces.

"Billions and billions. But that old wormhole sucked me in and dropped me way out _here_. So how far away and how long did it take to do that?" He mused for a few seconds. "If I knew the actual elapsed time down that funnel of space-time I might be able to figure out the effective speed of light in the wormhole." His module computer clocks had all frozen during that jump. "So if speed is distance divided by time, and time did not exist, then what's the effective speed? Something divided by nothing equals infinity, because any number divided by a very tiny number blows up - goes to infinity!"

"Yet," he mumbled on, "I remember that trip through the wormhole and _Dr. Einstein_, it did take time, at least a few seconds." He sighed, "So the speed is something less than infinity. Is there an upper bound to the speed limit inside a wormhole? Or does what happen at one end _almost_ happens at the same time at the other end?"

He chewed on a thumbnail as he walked. "Now that's something to think about. If I can make a good guess at how far I've traveled…" he scoffed. "Sure. Right. A good guess? Come on John! If there aren't any recognized galaxies up there, let along constellations, how far did you come?"

The number that came to his head shocked him. "A million light years? No has to be farther, for the Andromeda Galaxy is only two million light years from the Milky Way. If you were that close you should be able to see those and you can't! So make it ten million light years. And wormhole travel is fast. Really, really fast! Call it 10 million light years divided by ten seconds…" The number shocked him. "Okay, John. So your best guess of wormhole travel is one million freaking light years per second! At a minimum - that's the lower bound, unless time is distorted inside one. Is that what fried your module computer clocks?"

He stopped and peered around in a slow circle at the blazing surroundings. "A lower bound for wormhole travel is one million light years per _second_." He chuckled. "And when I got here, where the hell _here_ is, it looks like Utah. Downtown Inferno Land, Utah! Dr. Sagan you were right; boy were you right," he finished sadly.

"John old boy you are one lucky sucker to get this far and not get eaten, dropped onto a planet with sulfuric acid for an atmosphere, or got slurped down onto a neutron star and get crushed by gravity!"

There was so little that he knew out here, and his shipmates knew even less in what they called the Uncharted Territories. Early Earth maps had drawn fanciful beasts onto blank spots of maps and had written _Here there be dragons_. He had seen dragons - oh yes - dragons and shit that would freeze your blood. "A long, long way from home. Still haven't found Elvis either…"

He shouted as he got to the cave opening. "Aeryn! D'Argo? Hey big guy! You two taking a nap in there? Why didn't you answer the comm?" he yelled inside the cave. "Quit fooling around! I'm not joking!"

But any mood of fun immediately disappeared when he saw the cave was empty, even of their meager collection of water containers.

"D'Argo? Aeryn? Where are you guys?"

He squatted down and examined the dirt. "Those are footprints. A _lot of_ footprints." He put a hand down and saw that most of the footprints were paw prints - _very_ _small_ paw prints.

"I don't like this!" came out and he was lunging for his pulse pistol when he saw movement to the side but he suddenly felt all woozy.

The last thing he was aware of was the smell of cave dirt in his nose and then everything went_ far away._


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

Aeryn

Reality returned to Aeryn and it _hurt! _Her left arm felt worse than it had before, her mouth was dry and nasty, her stomach was upset, and the rude hut walls seemed to come and go in waves. "Oh… frell…" she said, feeling saliva gush to her mouth suddenly.

A large furry hand settled on her hand. "Calm," said a voice she recognized as Helas. "You made me work quite hard to repair the damage to your arm. You may feel… unwell… for some time."

Aeryn turned her head to the side and started to gag but the furry surgeon put a hollow gourd under her nose. She gratefully used it to catch the contents of her stomach. First meal had been many arns ago, based on the angle of the shadows at the hut door, but there was still plenty that came up. She fell back spent, her guts cramping.

"Oopah does that. I apologize. It also will delay the full use of your limbs for over a solar day for it inhibits movement of the major muscles."

The native held a cup of water to Aeryn's mouth and she rinsed and spat until her mouth felt less furry. "Thanks. Why are you caring for me?"

"You are my patient."

"You cut my arm open."

"I managed to remove all the wood fragments. You should heal nicely."

Aeryn craned her head towards her arm, where at least it was still attached. A neat white bandage circled it. Her head slumped back onto a rude cushion. "Listen," said Aeryn, "I think there are medical supplies in my crashed Scrubrunner."

Helas nodded. "We had hoped."

"I'm pretty certain there is a full field surgery kit onboard, if I recall the load manifest."

Helas turned her head away as her shoulders drooped.

The Sebacean gesture startled Aeryn. "What is it? If you recover those supplies…"

Helas touched her hand gently. "A flyer blew up the wreckage before we could salvage the medical supplies. Other than some ammunition and rations the rest was destroyed before we could recover it."

"Oh," said Aeryn sadly for she had forgotten the standing order issued for the campaign. _Any Peacekeeper downed aircraft, disabled vehicle, or abandoned emplacement shall be utterly destroyed at the first opportunity. _Startled, she said, "I forgot." The vulpeds continued to fight back, even after their capital had been destroyed and Rorx was quite blunt about his hatred of her kind. Clearly they were not wanted here.

Helas stood and towered over Aeryn. "It seems to me that you Peacekeepers will do whatever it takes to kill us, starve our people, and make us die of disease, until…"

Aeryn watched as Helas ran from the room without another word. The wounded Peacekeeper looked miserably about the rude hut, taking in the thatched roof, roughhewn floor and walls, and the tattered sheet thrown over her legs. "Frell," she said sadly after she was able to speak. "Oh frell."

For a time she slept until later when another vulped crept into the hut carrying a bowl of fruit and grain. "Rorx said… I'm to feed you."

Aeryn had been dozing but had instantly come awake when she heard the creak of footfalls on the floorboards. She looked the visitor over carefully. This vulped stood about a motra tall and was thin to the extreme. The few words she heard were of a bass timbre, more like Rorx then Helas, so she guessed this young one was a male.

"I am Eaon."

Aeryn nodded. "Aeryn." She watched as the young vulped put down the bowl and nervously pushed it towards her. "I'm unarmed," she reassured the child as his eyes wandered about the room. "And I am at your mercy. Whatever that drug was that Helas gave me seems to have partially paralyzed my legs."

"I am unarmed as well." Eaon blinked. "The drug does that." His eyes were huge as he stared back at Aeryn. "How old are you?"

The standard response would be name and rank, but Aeryn blurted out, "Fourteen cycles."

"Ah, and you are a _pilot_. I am only nine."

Aeryn heard the envy in his voice. "I am obviously a pilot," she nodded at her torn and dirty flight suit, "but I'm…" she waved her limp right hand down her supine body, "grounded at the moment."

Eaon stood. "Tell me Peacekeeper… what…" his voice fell, "I must know what…"

"What are you asking?"

Eaon went to the door and stopped there looking up to the sky. "When you fly, what's it like? In the sky?"

Aeryn craned her neck to look at the young vulped. She didn't suppose it could hurt to tell the child. "It feels like I'm powerful. That I could go anywhere and do anything. Like a…"

"Like a _hatmal_ yes; one of the mighty soaring avians!" Eaon came back into the room and crouched down by her, the giant eyes spearing hers. "And powerful as well? You can fly above the atmosphere, go anywhere you want, to other star systems even and explore new worlds! Why did you find it so needful to come here and attack us?"

Aeryn's mouth fell open. "I don't know." She was uncomfortable in the extreme anyway and being questioned by this baby was even worse.

"Yes you do!" Eaon wrinkled his nose. "I could kill you as you lie there," he said pulling a knife from a belt pouch and brandishing it near her face.

Aeryn propped herself up, her dead arms and legs fighting her. "Go ahead then. And you said you were unarmed."

Eaon looked down at the knife then put it aside. "Won't you tell me? Of all the worlds you might have travelled to, why this one? Why us? I've heard that you want our terellium."

Aeryn pursed her lips. "It was not my decision to say where or when or what we do when we get there. I'm just a soldier. A Peacekeeper… follows orders."

"Enough! I know of your kind who always follows orders! I have heard that you will do anything that is ordered - even kill yourselves!" The blade rose once more towards her throat. "I _should_ do it. You burned our house and my school, killed all my friends…" the blade shook. "And now _we_ are refugees, exiles on our _own_ world, while you _hunt_ us and _violate_ the ground digging out mountains of ore."

Aeryn defiantly lifted her chin until the sharp point pricked her skin. "If you want to go ahead!" Her fierce stare caught the child unawares. "Go on! You talk too much. As a Peacekeeper I know that I will die! And lying here in this stinking hut I'd just as soon be dead than listen to this dren! So do it; cut my throat! Kill me now! Or get the frell out!"

Eaon rocked back on his heels and Aeryn sagged back down quite spent.

A peacekeeper _never_ asked questions; only _obeyed_ orders, and that was that! Nothing more. No questions; only those necessary to gain the information to achieve the objective!

And no disobeying orders! She'd known those rules since she was a young child. Those who did not, or would not, understand those two basic rules… she gulped… no longer existed or worse.

The boy slowly returned the knife to his belt. "Aeryn, I…" he put his hands flat on the floor and bowed his forehead down between them. "I am a poor host, especially to one who is a prisoner."

"I don't understand. What's all this dren about prisoners?" Aeryn knew a lot about keeping prisoners. You penned them up, fed them, took some off for interrogation, and guarded them, but you _never_ treated them as people.

The boy rose and picked up the bowl of food. "Long ago, long before we had real cities, there was a war - a great war."

"Most societies have war."

Eaon shook his head. "This was different. There was a war, one side won; doesn't matter which one. But they took many prisoners, putting them into camps and barely fed them there. And then treated them… badly."

"Standard procedure."

The boy grinned, his pointed teeth in his furry face looking both fierce and kind at once. "Well, during that time a great earthquake struck coupled with a vast storm. For many metras around the ground was disturbed, whole villages were swallowed up, vast tracts of the forest were mowed down like tralka before the scythe. They said the gods were angry for our warfare and for the cruelty that happened after."

"I don't see the point of this fairy tale," Aeryn sneered up at him.

"No! _You_ _would not!_ The cities were laid waste, crushing many dwellers under the ruined buildings and trapping many! The prisoners, by some odd miracle, were totally unharmed for their enclosures were built in an area where the ground did not shake so much. When they saw the great suffering about them, they tore down the gates of the camps and came out."

"No doubt to resume the war."

The boy laughed an off-tune and high-pitched cry. "No Peacekeeper! The war was _over_! The prisoners formed rank and rushed to the aid of their enemies for they were, in the end, all creatures of this world, and when they saw their former enemies suffering, crushed under the great buildings…"

"This is a story! A complete fiction!" Aeryn scoffed. "I've never heard such a load of dren!"

The boy held out a piece of fruit that was red, small, and smelled delicious. He sighed and put the fruit to her lips. "This is apmel fruit. It is juicy and will help you to grow strong."

The fruit did smell rather enticing and she felt the pangs of hunger. In spite of her bravado before these people she did feel a core of fear. They could just as easily have killed her already, let alone feed her. She glanced at her bandaged arm. "You're taking care of me. Why?"

The boy bowed again. "We do it to repay the debt for that long ago war. To honor the memory of those _who did the right thing_ at that time. And ever since then the peoples of Vulpak have not fought a war."

He gently put the fruit into her mouth and the juice was so tasty and satisfying. Quite unlike anything she had ever tasted. She chewed on the morsel and it went down fine.

The boy picked up another piece of the red fruit. "Until you Peacekeepers arrived that is."

Aeryn looked up at Eaon. "But I am a Peacekeeper."

The boy fed her another morsel then spooned cooked grains into her mouth. "And you are a _prisoner_, so I care for you."

Totally confused by this behavior and attitude, Aeryn ate and drank all that was offered to her.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

D'Argo

Crichton had told D'Argo a tale from his home world. At each turn D'Argo had been perplexed, fascinated, and confused - sometimes all at once.

What he recalled wasn't very much, for the translator microbes had done what they could, which was not very much. As he thought back over the story, and present circumstances kept jarring him into reliving the account, he found himself somehow thrown into Crichton's saga.

D'Argo was sitting in their cave with Aeryn, wondering what was going on inside that Sebacean head of hers as she mumbled and muttered about vulpeds, whatever they were, and people named Eaon, Rorx, and Helas. No matter how much he fed her sips of water, or bathed her heated forehead, she went on and on in a low voice, telling some sort of story, and never properly responded to his queries. Aeryn rattled on about a plane crash on some sort of forest world, an injury and warfare. There was a part about a doctor and it all got muddled up with his own thoughts.

D'Argo was growing very bored with her mumbling when a stone in the cave wall quivered and rolled aside. He reached for his qualta blade but somehow it was far across the cavern and he was powerless to reach it. Now that he thought about it, which was rather hard for some reason, he should have been able to reach the weapon easily but he could not or seemed not to care about moving his arms and hands.

The stone stopped rolling, it was more of a small boulder, about a half motra across, and a small furry being wearing a yellow vest with many pockets and a helmet adorned with two lights stood there.

"Who are you?" roared D'Argo.

"I'm quite busy!" the little thing said. He pulled some sort of metallic thing from a vest pocket and peered at it.

"I asked you your name, you fuzzy little phizbin!"

"Humph. Well, it's not just every day I meet someone new. Not like I should just drop everything to answer your questions!" The thing peered at the device held in a furry paw. "Look at that! Just look at that!"

He held the thing out towards D'Argo, who got a glimpse of many dials; all whirling hands and meters flashing numbers and digits. "What the dren is going on?" D'Argo screeched. "And what the yutz is that smell?" His beaky nose twitched. The odor reminded him of a malk with a bad case of the skuzz.

The thing snapped the device closed and carefully put it away. "If you are not interested…" he looked down at Aeryn. "What's this?" he asked and prodded her with a long-toed foot.

D'Argo sighed and his eyes felt so heavy - so heavy. The bad smell was making him quite drowsy and it was hard to pay attention. "I asked your name."

"Yes, you did. I am Overseer Adnon and you," his twitching nose sniffed D'Argo. "You are… odiferous! I think you should come with me. And we could help your friend. Is she slumbering?"

"No. She was injured. Hit her head and I'm not sure what is wrong with her." D'Argo sat back on his heels as the cave walls loomed in his sight. "Or with me. Can't seem to think…"

The little creature sniffed up and down Aeryn's body. "I think she is more than she appears to be!" A thin finger prodded the holstered pistol at her side. "Oh… I see… a pulse pistol."

"She's not a Peacekeeper if that's what you think!" D'Argo snarled. "We bargained for that weapon! We're lost traders…"

The thing took a very Sebacean sort of pose with hands on hips. "Stop! I think I know!" His nose twitched some more. "Yes, I see. I know!" Long wide teeth were exposed in the thing's face. "Ooh yes, but not for me to say." He tapped his nose. "I can tell lots of things. Will she be pleased?"

"What _are_ you saying?"

Adnon stood up straighter. "You come with me!"

"Like I'll follow you!" D'Argo lunged for the little fellow who easily stepped aside and laughed in a high pitched voice as the Luxan found himself face down in the dirt.

Adnon pulled something from his pocket and spoke into it. "Adnon here! I need a team," his large liquid eyes roved over the Sebacean and the Luxan. "A large one!"

D'Argo lay there unable to move and watched passively as more things emerged from the tunnel. "Arrr…" was all he could growl until a cloth was passed across his jaws and his arms and legs were bound with cables.

The creatures bodily picked up D'Argo, Aeryn, and all their supplies, and cooperating in teams hoisted them on their tiny shoulders and carried them to the dark opening in the rock.

"Hurry," Overseer Adnon call out. "Hurry! We are late! Very late!"

Crichton's odd story returned to D'Argo's baffled brain as his nose almost scraped the top of the rough passageway. What did John tell him?

Something about a very young human and a small furry thing that enticed her down a tunnel.

What did John call the fable? His drugged brain cells struggled for an answer. "That's it!" slurred D'Argo through the gag after many microts of puzzling over the problem. "_Ales in Wunder Lind!_"

Light grew dim as he was hauled down the narrow passage and the last thing he heard was a rumble as light faded while the boulder was dragged into place at the mouth of the tunnel.

**Notes:**

**Apologies to Reverend Charles Lutwidge Dodgson, also known to his readers as Lewis Carroll. He created a novel originally published as "Alice's Adventures in Wonderland," in 1865.**


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

Zhaan

"Rygel, you've done it! That's the pod!" she said as the deposed ruler bobbed up and down on his throne-chair with obvious glee. It almost might be too good to be true, but the gleaming metallic speck displayed on the screen, seemed to be what they were seeking.

"I told I could, you giant stalk of blue grass!" Rygel could not help deriding the blue Delvian, as the thought of dealing with flora-life on a daily basis, other than in a salad, was very irritating. He drew himself up taller. "I am a Dominar, sixteenth of my name! One such as myself can _always_ achieve what he sets his great mind to do!"

Zhaan pressed her lips together, quelling an irritated thought. "Now we must go down there and get them." She knew down to her core that if she was trapped below D'Argo and John, even Aeryn, would mount a rescue. "Now!"

"Oh no! No you don't!" Rygel squawked. "There is no way you'll get me down there! The whole planet looks… unworthy… of one such as myself! I shall stay here, and… aid… yes, that's it! I shall aid Pilot, uhm… preparing for our departure! And the sooner the better! If you'd have asked me in the first place, I'd not have stopped here at all!"

A long fingered hand reached and grabbed Rygel by his brow ridge and since it also was part of the cartilage of his ear, was easily able to make him squirm. "I doubt very much that Pilot needs your help, Rygel! Aeryn, D'Argo and John do!"

Pilot added his voice to the discussion. "Zhaan is quite right Rygel. Moya and I do not need your help. We are doing quite well at the moment on our own. You should accompany Zhaan to the surface."

Zhaan released Rygel's ear but stroked it softly. "Rygel. I _do_ need your help. In case our friends are injured, I'll need you to pilot the pod while I tend to any injuries they may have." That was her fear - that their friends were injured or worse. "Unfortunately this scan is low res. Pilot is there any higher resolution available?"

"No Zhaan. I am sorry," Pilot told her. "That is the best we have available. We can barely discern the pod itself. If you were hoping to detect our friends, or even footprints, I fear that is not possible."

"Humph! I'm not sure you want _me_ piloting one of Moya's pods. I have a none to steady hand on the controls of machines such as that. But…" he sagged, seeing Zhaan's stricken look, "if you need my help, I shall try my utmost."

"Thank you Rygel," said Pilot.

He sneered at the image of Pilot hovering by the main console. "Not very frelling likely you'd be able to go down there is it?"

"Joined as I am to Moya, permanently, sadly I cannot," Pilot sighed. "However, _if_ I could I _would_." The Pilot and Leviathan joining was well known to them all, but Pilot felt shamed by the implication that he was some sort of coward. "You know I would…" he said softly.

Zhaan smiled at his image. "Of course you would Pilot. We thank you for your devotion to the crew.

Pilot started to speak to tell them of the special feeling he was developing for Aeryn Sun, but his voice was stilled as Rygel interrupted.

Rygel shook his gray head. "Alright Zhaan. Enough of the empty platitudes!" he said grumpily. "At the present Zhaan, enough yutzing around! Just how will we survive _down there_ in that furnace?" He waved his stumpy arm at the screen showing the transport pod lying on a rocky shelf in the desert. "Looks like a Crustic's vision of eternal damnation to me!"

Zhaan straightened up. "I'm sorry, Rygel. I don't recall who those are."

Rygel chuckled. "The Crustics live on a world where the whole frelling planet is one _giant_ ocean except for a few scattered islands. The Hynerians have been trading with them for millennia." He sniffed. "Never been there myself, but I understand the sea air is _bracing_. To them, and they are giant starfish, being cast up on dry land is their image of eternal punishment!" He cackled. "Just like down there! I don't think, very much, there are any starfish in that hellish desert."

"Zhaan, you have been working in the maintenance bay," interrupted Pilot. "What do you have in mind?"

"Yes," she said. "I've taken the life system of a Peacekeeper suit… trying to modify it…" she breathed deeply. "I have only a passing exposure to Peacekeeper technology, although I have been their prisoner for many cycles."

Pilot brightened. "I'm sure it will work, Zhaan, whatever it is."

Zhaan pushed her fears aside hearing Pilot's firm and confident voice. "We will try, Pilot. We will try."


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

Crichton

When John Crichton was twelve years old some older kids had dared him to walk through a buried drainage pipe. The pipe was long, barely tall enough to stand up in, and had very little water running through it. It wasn't possible to see from one end to the other, since it curved. By riding his bike along the country road near it, and thanks to a new bike odometer, he had measured it at just over a half mile long.

As a budding scientist he made a quick calculation after measuring his stride. It was just over 1100 steps to cover that distance. Now the thing was the dare was to walk it _at night_ _without_ a _flashlight_. John wasn't afraid of the dark, so he accepted.

It was really dark in that pipe, he recalled, because it was a cloudy and night and the moon hadn't risen yet. A street lamp illuminated one end and all he had to do was to walk in a line, splashing through the two or three inches of water at the bottom and running his hands along the concrete overhead. No problem, he thought. There was no way he could get lost, and after the stunt he'd be allowed into the tree house the older boys had built.

What he'd not counted on was how damn _dark_ it was in there! Really, really dark, and after the first two hundred steps (he counted them the whole way) he could not see a thing. "As dark as a closet in a submarine with a power failure at the _bottom_ of the ocean," he kept repeating along the route.

The splashing of his booted feet, the scrape of occasional touches of a shoulder or his fingers along the sides of the concrete cylinder, and his panting breath was all there was. He could have been on the far side of the Moon in a cave during a solar eclipse or deep inside the Earth for eyesight would give you no clue at all. Either way there was _nothing_ to see. And after a while, he could hear his pounding heart.

But this time there was also a scrabbling noise as a force tugged on his foot, pulling him feet first. Reflexively he kicked at the thing, and with a squawk it dropped his foot and started muttering curses.

"You are big! Big prize!"

"Wha?" John opened his eyes to darkness, the rich deep darkness of that closet in a submarine at the bottom of the ocean.

"And squirming!" said some unseen creature.

John sensed something swinging down towards his head so he blocked the blow with a forearm and grabbed the pipe or whatever and threw it into the distance. "That's enough of that crap." What'd you hit me with?"

He blinked and rolled over, feeling dirt with pebbles under him along with a pounding headache. "Damn! What in the hell?" he muttered and his voice bounced back to him. He reached to his holster and found it empty. "Great! Just great! Oww, my head!" He probed and found no wounds there but there was a lump. "Where am I?"

"You are my prisoner," said a soft yet firm voice.

"Not very likely Buckwheat," John answered. The memory of that drainage pipe and the long ago dare receded. Focus John, focus, he thought. Lost on an alien world and conked on the head by something and dragged underground. "Great. Super. Best day of my life."

"Aeryn? D'Argo?" A few tentative sweeps with his outstretched hands told him there were plenty of jagged rocks around - ankle breakers about six inches to a foot or more in size. The roughness contrasted with the smooth floor and rounded pebbles under his feet and butt.

"Hello?" he shouted and his voice came back to him in different volumes and timing.

"No one here but us," said the thing.

"Yeah," John said. "And who are you?"

"Constable."

John found that there was a very faint light - so it _was_ a closet in a sub - but not more. He could faintly see a squat figure crouching a few feet away staring at him. "It's a cave!" He rubbed his hands across the rocks about him. "These are breakdown boulders - came from above. But the floor is eroded by water. Hmm. A dry cave then. But water once flowed here," he sniffed and smelling dust, "a longg time ago."

"Yes… long time. No water now."

John leaned forward on his knees and faced the dimly seen animal. "All right little buddy. I know this is all a big mistake. Now what's the big idea of banging me over the head?"

"I arrest."

John relaxed then sprang forward, but the thing lunged away screaming. "Good job, Crichton. How to win friends and influence people." He rubbed his aching head again.

"Little bastard!" he yelled out and heard his voice echo from far distances. This was a big cave, and a scrabbling noise receded under his echoing voice as the _constable_ ran for his life. He quit talking and let the sounds of his voice die out.

"Ok, John, off your ass and find the wall." He stumbled and half-crawled over rocks and broken stones until he found a vertical wall. He turned himself until the wall was under his left hand and sensed the running sounds had come from dead ahead.

"Ok, John. You're deep underground. You have no idea how you got here. Your head is killing you, and you have no light, no food, and no water. And for all you know there are Morlocks down here."

Crichton tripped over a rock, the oppressiveness darkness pressing down on him. "Hoo boy. Why do I suddenly feel like an Eloi down here?" back in that tunnel he thought, just count steps.

He shuffled along counting. "One, two, damn! Big rock… three…"

**Notes:**

**Morlocks = The underground dwellers who raised and ate Eloi in the novel "The Time Machine," H. G. Well's novel from 1895.**

**Eloi = The idyllic dwellers of the surface in Well's story of the future of mankind.**


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

Aeryn

"I don't understand it," Helas told Aeryn as she examined her immobile legs the next morning.

Aeryn was able to sit on a low stool, but everything from her knees down seemed to belong to someone else. "Have you ever treated a Peacekeeper?"

"No, sadly, I have not, or I may be able to understand what is happening. You should be walking."

Aeryn tried to wiggle toes and ankles but they might as well be cast in ferro-concrete for all the good it did. "It seems to me that you have a very effective way to immobilize Peacekeepers," she chuckled sardonically.

Helas laughed in a high tinkling voice. "Oh, Aeryn Sun, you amaze me."

"That Peacekeepers laugh?"

"You made a joke." Helas nodded. "We are so alike, but so different, and I had thought…"

"That we're mechanical? No emotions at all?"

"That's not what I meant." Helas sighed. "I have only seen the warring side of your people."

Aeryn recalled the scene of their ruined capital, mercilessly stomped into a ruin. What else could Helas think given the example the Peacekeepers had made of their capital city?

"And I wish to say that you've made quite an impression on my nephew Eaon. Flying is all he's talking about."

Aeryn stiffened for she knew that she would have to be extremely careful with these beings. There were penalties for being _too_ familiar with intelligent creatures. She clamped her lips tightly and looked away. And as for Eaon, he'd be very lucky he'd live another five cycles given the way things were proceeding with the war, for the vulpeds were losing ground at a ferocious rate.

"Did I say something wrong?" The doctor finished changing the dressing. "Your arm is healing well. As soon as you are able to walk, we'll…"

"You'll what? Ship me off to a prison camp? My teammates and regiment will come looking for me, I'll have you know!"

"There _are_ patrols looking for you. But…"

The doorway was suddenly filled with the large figure of Rorx. "How is our prisoner?" he asked with some concern.

Helas rose and bowed to him. "Healing, my mate. We need to make plans."

"Plans?" Aeryn knew she should be trying to escape, but with her legs yutzed up any practical scheme was still on hold.

Rorx sagged down onto the floor and looked up at her face. "We need to decide what to do with you, little Peacekeeper."

"I don't suppose you can just let me go? No, not likely, I suppose."

Rorx sighed. "No. We have considered trying to use you as a gaming piece. We might exchange you for some of our people in your custody or even supplies."

Aeryn bit her tongue rather than speak. Squadron command would be extremely unlikely to accept those terms. Peacekeeper command would likely kill any emissaries sent on that mission. "I'm nobody. No one cares about a junior flying officer."

"I fear you are not correct," said Helas in a stricken voice as she reached out to touch Rorx.

"What's happened?"

"You _are_ dangerous, Aeryn Sun," Rorx snapped. "We have the proof."

Aeryn looked down at her thin legs were her feet had started to shake and quiver. "Well a little life at last."

"That is good Aeryn, but about the other…" Helas stammered.

"Tell me!"

Rorx grimaced. "An encampment near your wrecked flyer was raided by a patrol last night. Thirty vulpeds were captured and executed; _thirty_ of our people. We just found out, for one escaped, for she was gathering water just as your commandos arrived."

Aeryn's face fell. "Oh."

"You are a _dangerous_ prisoner Aeryn Sun! Fat too dangerous! That is why we brought you here, many metras away from the crash site!" Rorx sniffed the air. "And now _you_ are afraid."

Aeryn had felt her armpits fill with sweat. "No! No, I'm not!" she lied.

"If no one cares about you, then why are they seeking you?" Rorx dipped his head, nose twitching more. "You are bathed in your own stink, Aeryn Sun! So you lie!"

She had tried to remain calm and stoic; the calm that had been drilled into her, both by example and breeding. Fear was an enemy for it blocked rational thought - the one rational thought being she needed to escape from these beings, kill them if necessary, and get back to her base. The war was still going on and she was missing it; letting her team down all the time she was missing; while making Command use precious resources to look for her. But her body's own chemistry betrayed her and her false courage was too apparent.

"I think it is well that you are mostly immobile, Aeryn," Rorx went on. "I'd not want you to betray us." He stood and looked down. "I love my life and my clan far more than I would love any such as you."

Rorx walked away before Aeryn could protest. "Rorx!" she called out but he kept walking away and had left before he might answer.

Helas bent and manipulated her twitchy feet. "I believe you will be mobile soon." She sighed. "You must forgive my mate. He is… greatly concerned."

Aeryn began to feel more sensation in her legs and that was all the more reason to be developing an escape plan. "He should be worried; you all should be! Any Peacekeepers finding you will be ruthless."

"I know child," said Helas sadly. "But what of you?"

Aeryn felt real fear for there was one other precept a peacekeeper was all too aware of. If one was, she gulped… _irreversibly contaminated_… then their life may become forfeit, eventually. Peacekeepers were extremely wary of any new ideas entering their code; a code that had been static for millennia. Aeryn had only been with these people for one solar day, but she may have become _contaminated_ already!

"Is something wrong?" Helas asked. "You seem even more anxious than before."

"No," Aeryn shook her head, her dirty tresses flying. "Nothing." She bit at her lip and then asked, "Perhaps if you helped me try to walk?"

Helas helped her rise, easily supporting her small frame. "Let us try to put some weight on your feet. Yes?"

Aeryn Sun, Peacekeeper pilot, was grateful to the doctor for her medical help, but she feared she may have to kill Helas, or even others, to escape. While step by limping step Helas helpfully assisted her about the room, Aeryn plotted a way to escape that would do the least possible damage.


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

Rygel

While Zhaan was explaining to Rygel her modifications of the Peackeeper enviro-suit life system, he rubbed his hairy brow ridges and pondered the situation. Despite locating the transport pod on the surface of the planet below, he was not very confident that the outcome would be good at all. The thermal scan of the wreckage found the pod to be nearly in equilibrium with the heated desert. That meant that the pod was without power and had been for some time.

Pilot had said as much over the comm as they went down to the main maintenance bay. "The pod has no power and we must assume that it is open to the atmosphere. Moya says that the temperatures are still rising down there; now _sixty-seven _ferencs."

Rygel grinned. "Not quite boiling. Hmm. I wonder what boiled Crichton would taste like?"

"Needs another thirty ferencs to boil, Rygel! And how can you say such a thing?" Pilot coughed over the comm. "I suggest that you hurry. Moya does as well."

Zhaan tapped Rygel on the head. "Now, pay attention Rygel! I have taken a Peacekeeper vest and sealed a continuous length of flexible tubing to it. That will be ported through the water tank."

That startled Rygel. "Water tank?"

"I should have said ice. By freezing the water first it provides an excellent heat sink for the breathing air."

"So, let me understand, Zhaan. You're going to cool water and use it to do what exactly?"

She sighed. "The water flows from the block of ice and then back into the vest."

"I see," said Pilot. "This will cool the wearer."

"Yes," she nodded her bald head. "It will provide some cooling capacity."

Rygel poked at the garments laying there. "I see you made two."

"Yes. One for me and one for a survivor."

Rygel peered over at the clamshell-like display where Pilot's face peered down at the garments laid out across her work table. "You think this will work you giant crab?"

Pilot scowled. "No need to be abusive, Rygel." He waved a claw into camera view. "As I said, I would go with you, but failing that… this is likely… the best way. Zhaan can find the survivors and ferry them one at a time into your pod."

"I pray to the Goddess we find all three, Pilot." Zhaan started to cry.

"Of course, of course, we will." Rygel patted Zhaan's elbow and turning his head to the screen wrinkled his nose in Pilot's direction, indicating extreme negativity.

Pilot coughed in disapproval then scowled at the Hynerian.

"Just a vest…" Rygel sniffed. "No arms and legs though?"

Zhaan shook her head. "Time is short Dominar. I only had time to make the vests and fortunately Pilot was able to use DRDs to help replumb the life systems. Crichton once described Earth spacesuits and had mentioned their explorers wore a similar system. But this system is makeshift. Survival will be marginal."

Pilot stared down at the scene. "If Commander Crichton described this sort of system, then I believe him – that it works, of course."

The Hynerian started to float away from the work table but then returned. "Based on a _half described_ design as told by a _human_ from the far side of the universe?" he scoffed. "I'd rather eat a half-cooked melnac than use one of those! That primitive human is so backward he had to be taught to use a dentic!"

"What would you have me do?" yelled Zhaan in distress. "This is the best I could do in the time available! If John was here I am quite certain he could do far better. And you don't have to even leave the pod, Rygel! But I will need your help to pilot the pod. We have to TRY!" she almost sobbed.

Pilot's image nodded to them from the screen. "John can be very useful, Zhaan. He is a surprising creature - helpful in many ways, is he not?" Pilot observed. The human was astonishing to all of them. He was lacking in many ways - with weak eyesight, lower frequency hearing, no real combat training, other than what Aeryn and D'Argo had taught him, no great strength like D'Argo or powers like Zhaan had, and yet… there was something _dynamic_ about him… something… else. A sort of essence that could not be denied.

Pilot overheard almost everything onboard Moya. Commander Crichton recorded observations into his small tape recorder. Pilot heard him dictating at regular intervals into the thing - a low-tech way to record memories. John often used the word _hope_ in his dictations. Hope that whatever the crisis of the moment it could somehow be resolved. Hope that he could find his way home, to earth. And, mused Pilot, John Crichton _never_ gave up; _not ever_.

"What's the matter, Pilot?" Zhaan asked. "You look uncomfortable."

Pilot looked away from the televisor then back at them. "Nothing Zhaan. I was calibrating Moya's core units and I became distracted. Please continue." He wished he could go with them to save the crew. He wished that they had not stopped here, and it was his fault that he recalled that Moya's databanks held a fragment of a datapack on mining in this section, information they had traded for on the last Commerce planet.

But they needed food, nourishing food, and even the Peacekeeper survival rations had run out, so it was stop here and try to trade for food or have them all starve. There was not a system near for many teksecs. Bah! Pilot, enough with this self-recrimination! He calmed himself, his face returning to his normal passivity and listen once more.

Zhaan went on describing her modified suits to Rygel, who made disapproving remarks at every turn.

"So you are the lucky piece of vegetation that gets to wear one of these things down there?" Rygel muttered. "While I sit safe in the pod. Good."

"Safe is a _relative_ term Rygel," Pilot interrupted. "Based on the fuel necessary to fly down to the wreckage and return to our geostationary orbit, plus an ample reserve for a ground search, if necessary," he coughed, "cooling inside the pod must be set to a _minimum_. I expect ground temperatures will soon be over the boiling point of water, with air temperatures lagging that high only by some arns."

Rygel began to splutter. "By the gods! I'll turn into a…"

"Crispy critter," said Pilot using one of Crichton's phrases. "But Rygel! We must do this and we can only _hope_," there was that word that John Crichton used often, "that D'Argo, Aeryn and Crichton are safely sheltered somewhere down there!"

He activated a screen on the bay wall and Zhaan and Rygel could see the desert below them. "I now detect changes in the weather patterns on the planet. A storm is moving in - a sandstorm. I estimate wind velocities at an average of thirty metras per arn… or higher. Gusts could be _much_ higher."

"And now a frelling sandstorm?" cried Rygel. "To yutz with that!"

Zhaan grabbed the Hynerian before he could float away to hide in one of Moya's tiers or storage places. "Rygel, if that was _you_ trapped down there, what would you have us do? Fly away and let you stay there and dry up? Roast into who knows what? Would you?"

Rygel gulped for he knew that much was true. His crew mates could have abandoned him any number of times, usually when he got into difficulty somewhere. And as for the temperatures on the planet he liked the temperature to be moderate, unless it was a very nice warming mud bath. It would be horribly hot down there, even inside the pod. He shuddered. Scarrans liked it hot, plus the Adraxie and all sorts of other beasties, but not him. "How hot did you say it will get, Pilot?"

Pilot started to repeat his forecast while Rygel screamed. "Stop! Stop! I don't want to know!" His slit-pupil eyes looked sadly up at Zhaan. "You're right, Zhaan. They need our help. Let's get going! Once again I am being dragged off this nice safe Leviathan… against my will."

Zhaan gathered the suits and the life systems, so that several DRDs could push them to the transport in a cargo box.

Rygel paused at the pod's boarding ladder and looked around at the gold and brown ribs of the tier. "Good bye, Moya! And I pray to the Three-Headed God that I return," he muttered. Then with as much composure as a dominar could muster he swept into the pod after Zhaan.

**Notes:**

**Sixty-seven ferencs = about 150 degrees F**

**Dentic = A small grub-like leech that was used to clean the teeth. It ate bacteria and food fragments from a user's teeth. They are about the size of the Australian witjuti grub.**

**Teksec = about ten parsecs or 32.6 light years**

**Thirty metras per arn = about 28 miles per hour (45 km per hour)**


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 24

D'Argo

D'Argo was about fifteen cycles of age when he saw his first Peacekeeper.

He and his great-uncle had traveled to the fourth world of the Prestac System to collect a cargo of orilac for their consortium when Uncle C'Ougi suggested they take a few arns to visit the museum sited there.

D'Argo most definitely did not want to go to a stuffy and dusty museum. "I'd rather visit the market district, Uncle," he said trying to hide disappointment.

His uncle walloped the boy on the head, making his head tentacles flail. "My Great-nephew D'Argo! You just want to spend all your credits on videc gaming! I know how you young people are!"

D'Argo sighed. "You just want to go to the museum because you wish to see _old_ things, just like _you_!" he snarled.

Uncle C'Ougi laughed so hard that he fell onto the pavement and rolled around. After a few handfuls of microts he rose to his feet and dusted off his trousers. then slapped his great-nephew on the back throwing him forward. "You are always making jokes, D'Argo! You delight me!"

D'Argo rubbed his aching shoulder. "Right. Whatever you say, uncle." He sighed for he had heard that the markets on this planet stocked any number of videcs that were not only unavailable on their home world, but were also, it was whispered amongst his friends, _illegal_.

"Just wait, D'Argo, for you are about to see something that is rather rare, but you must see it."

Inside the museum were any number of pieces of artwork, most of which he had no interest in, ancient fragments of Prestac prehistory and other bits of useless bric-a-brac from corsets to carriages, even ancient internal combustion engines, so old they were almost myth. D'Argo was thoroughly bored, until uncle thrust him into the last exhibit hall.

D'Argo stood frozen in amazement at the sight. The giant hall, nearly a half metra long, displayed a huge assortment of war machinery and weapons. Near the entry was an array of edged weapons, in bronze, steel, and composite. More followed; any number of things that could impale, stab, or penetrate, all from muscle power alone. He stood there and his eyes boggled at the scene. "I had no idea, Uncle! This is fantastic! Wonderful!"

His great-uncle waited patiently while D'Argo inspected these displays, all the while exclaiming his delight at each one. "Little boys like toys, yes?"

D'Argo laughed. "And I thought you were fahrbot to bring me here!" He hugged the old Luxan. "Thank you!"

Uncle C'Uogi stood nearby, his arms crossed, slowly advancing his charge along the aisles. They passed primitive projectile weapons, armored vehicles, and heavily armed flying machines, then rockets and missiles, early nuclear weapons and the like. It was near the end of the hall, under a display of orbital beam weapons, optical and particle, when they stopped at a secured door. "I want you to see this. It is something that every Luxan warrior needs to see and to be fully acquainted with."

"What is it?"

"My grandfather brought me here to see this. Something I never forgot."

"But what is it?" D'Argo asked.

Great-uncle had looked away then pulled a special museum pass from a belt pouch and waved it past the door's lock. With the clicking of giant clamps, the door slowly opened and he waved his son's nephew inside. "This D'Argo. Look on it and remember it well."

D'Argo stood in front of a diorama of a ruined room, half filled with crushed ferro-concrete, twisted steel and burnt furniture. Obviously it represented a lounge of some sort, for there was a smashed holoscreen on one wall, the other blown open by some explosive force.

"What is this?" he asked.

A holoprojector came to life and a black clad figure stood before them holding a pulse rifle in one hand, standing there in a completely black battle suit festooned with grenades, extra ammo packs, along with a holstered pulse pistol. A low-power sighting laser emerged from the rifle's tip and flicked over them while a booming voice began to speak.

"This is a _Peacekeeper_ soldier of the race of Sebaceans! They are warring, not war-like creatures, implacable in all their demands. If they want something, they take it! They rarely negotiate and almost never take prisoners, and only then to enslave entire races. They are the scourge of the universe. They do not stop fighting until their goals have been met. They never retreat and they never give up. And… they never lose plus… their services can be bought by the highest bidder."

"Never?" D'Argo asked. "They never lose?"

The figure opened its battle helmet visor and turned to face them. His cold gray eyes stared down at D'Argo with hard-edged hate above a grim thin-lipped mouth.

The stare was not _hate_, he realized, after a few microts. Something far worse was in that look and it sent a chill into his soul. The simulated Peacekeeper's stare was one of _complete_ and _utter_ _lack_ of _emotion_.

The narrator's voice boomed on. "Only once have the Peacekeepers been defeated in battle. One thousand cycles ago the Rehassi race opted to deploy a planet burster on their home world to stop them. One billion intelligent creatures and an entire planet were destroyed, along with ten Peacekeeper command carriers, forty attack squadrons, and an untold number of ancillary craft. Only that one time have the Peacekeepers been defeated! And little good it did for the Rehassi have been extinct since that time."

D'Argo gasped. "Why would the gods permit such madness and evil?"

C'Uogi smiled grimly. "We will never know, D'Argo, but we must always be ready to fight these - _things_."

"Countless races have fallen before the Peacekeepers," the voice went on and began a roll call of those that had been subjugated or utterly destroyed.

D'Argo felt his skin grow cold, head tentacles stiffen, and his tenkas try to withdraw into his body as the holographic image stared down at him with a look of detached abhorrence.

His body jerked once and he emerged from the realms of long ago memory. He was lying on rough ground, his hands bound before him in a low-ceilinged rock tunnel where the light was dim and the air dusty. He groaned, feeling the aftereffects of whatever someone had shot him with. In a few breaths he could roll to one side and saw Aeryn lying beside him, but her hands were unbound. The former Peacekeeper commando and pilot lay there mumbling nonsense, much as she had been before.

"Peacekeeper," D'Argo said, "I fear your race would be embarrassed by your present circumstances." He then put his head back on the ground and blacked out.

**Notes:**

**Tenkas = A Luxan's organs of procreation.**


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter 25

Crichton

Stumbling over another rock, John fell onto his face. "Ok, that makes two hundred and seventeen steps, and fourteen, no fifteen trips and falls! Damn it!" He slowly got to his feet and peered about the gloom where either his eyes had become hugely sensitive or there was some light source here. He released that his fingertips were faintly glowing and running his hands over rock wall, made dark appear streaks there. "Must be lichen or something. A mold or a glowing fungus?" His fingers glowed faintly, most visibly under his nails. "Ok I'm now my own flashlight. Take that Eveready."

Once more he trekked along the rock wall, counting his steps, and all the while the faint sound he was following got a little louder with each of them. It sounded like rock on rock with occasional clinks of a metal tool. The tunnel continued on a slight downhill slope. Occasionally it dropped off a few feet at a time, and then attained the original inclination and John had grown tired on the march. "Breakfast was a long time ago and I'm really thirsty. I don't suppose there's a Pepsi machine down here?"

His voice echoed more loudly to his ears and he sensed the cavern grow larger. "Hey!" he yelled out and as the echo died away he muttered, "Oh, what's the use?"

He sat down on the floor, tucked his knees to his chest and rested his head on them. "I am so tired, so damn tired. There is not one thing in this universe that makes any damn sense. Ever since that wormhole got me…" he shook his head sadly. He inhaled deeply and blew the air out. "But if it hadn't I'd never have made knew friends!" That made him laugh so in a stentorian voice added, "Rygel XVI, Dominar of all the Hynerian Empire! Little conniving, cheating, slug with the horrible habits of every pickpocket, con artist, and thief within a thousand light years! And then there's Crais - Bialar Crais - my ole buddy Crais, who would have your head on a spike if he could get his hands on you! Then on to my real friends. You got to have friend out here, or anywhere. You have Pilot, a twelve foot high crab joined to a living star ship called Moya, a giant blue stalk of a woman named Zhaan, a priestess no less, who every time you turn around has another amazing super power! And Ka D'Argo, six foot plus and angry, most of the time, but he's a good buddy to have in a tough spot. But don't ask him why paper covers rock; alien thinking, I guess." He chuckled remembering trying to teach the Luxan the scissors - paper - rock game. "Maybe he'll get it in the end or maybe not," he said gloomily.

He raised his face and looked into the dimness which seemed to be a little brighter than before. "And then there is Aeryn; Aeryn Sun," he moaned. "What am I going to do about her? That gal kicked your ass the first time you met, and spent monens apparently hating your guts, but speaking out for you what was got her branded outcast by that bastard Crais. So you owe the woman, John. And then there's the whole attraction thing…"

He toyed with some dirt on his knees, now sitting cross legged. "Oh yeah. A - trac - tion! Wow. Just the one time…" Back on the faux-Earth they had made love, well he had. She had called it recreating. "Poor thing, doesn't even know about love. Sheesh." He stood and dusted at his pants. "But she does know how to make it." The thought of her smooth skin, scars and all made him sigh once more. "Face it John, the woman is tough, a crack shot, an ace pilot plus complicated, trouble, and…" he gulped, "lovely." He shook his head. "And 'fess up, Crichton, you'd walk through fire to save her. Even though she didn't like the flowered dress you had her put on," which was part of their failed escape plan back on faux-Earth. "Maybe black _is_ her color?"

Crichton shook his head and wondered what Zhaan and Rygel were doing back on Moya. Probably given all of you up for dead, he thought, but then he said "but I hope not."

"Enough of that John, because it sure won't get you out of this hole any sooner." His hand brushed across his empty holster. "But I sure wish I had my pistol, even if I am a lousy shot, according to Aeryn."

He stood, cracked his neck, and squared his shoulders. "Ok now. Back to the quest. Lead on Kirk! There has to be a Horta down here somewhere! Now if they only didn't spit acid," he laughed.

"Now," he sighed, "where was I? Oh, yeah," he took a step forward. "Two hundred and eighteen. Back into optimistic mode," he added grimly and kept walking and counting.

**Notes:**

**Eveready = Eveready Battery Company.**

**Monens = A period of time, made up of five weekens, each of which is ten solar days.**

**Horta = A fictional, rock-eating, acid-secreting, and intelligent creature made of silicon that tangled with Kirk and Spock in the original Star Trek episode "Devil in the Dark." **


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter 26

Aeryn

Her legs were improving the next day, so much so that she was able to walk nearly unaided. The boy Eaon watched as she orbited the hut, touching the walls for support.

"Better, Aeryn, much better," he said after watching her orbit the room on her own for two circuits of it.

All the while the boy chattered on about flying and pestered her for details. Details she omitted, but she did talk more freely of the kinds of ships she was being trained to pilot. "After Scrubrunners, we usually move to KL's. They are single-stage to orbit craft - cargo mostly." Her legs faltered and she reached out for his help. "Enough! I need to rest."

Eaon took her hand and helped her.

"I'll be much better when…" Aeryn stopped.

"When what? When you leave?" the boy asked. "Have we, erhh, _I_ mistreated you?"

"No. You have not," she answered as she slowly sagged onto the floor.

Eaon looked down at her. "But you do not belong here."

Aeryn looked at the young vulped. "You know that I am a warrior."

"So different from me."

"I _was_ raised on a ship."

"A _starship_," he said with admiration in his eyes.

"Of course." She sighed as she ran her hands across the boards of the hut and fingered the homespun blanket she had pulled across her legs. "I thought it would be warmer down here."

"It is warm, but the rainy season is almost starting. The first winds have started. They bring the rain from off the sea."

"That's right there are oceans on this world." Aeryn looked hard at the boy who, despite their differences, she had begun empathizing with, and that thought made her quite afraid. The penalties for empathizing with the enemy were never pretty. To distract herself, she asked him, "I wonder what they look like?"

Eaon pulled a book from a shelf and began to leaf through it. "These are pictures of my family, when we went there - a place called Banks Beach. Look here."

She took the odd paper bound thing from him, being used to electronic screens, and turned the pages. Eaon described the pictures; where, who, and what. "Who are these people?" she asked, pointing to his image with two adults.

Eaon took the book from her and ran his finger down the image. "My mother and father," he said sadly.

"Are they here?" she asked innocently.

Eaon slammed down the book and charged from the hut almost knocking over Rorx and Helas who were entering right then.

"What's happened?" Helas asked Aeryn.

"I… asked about his parents," she told them. "He was showing me images of them."

Rorx grimaced. "Both his parents are missing. His father was in the local constabulary when your people invaded our world. He has not been seen for monens and his mother…" his voice trailed off sadly.

Aeryn hugged her knees. "I had no idea. I am sorry."

"_You_ are sorry?" Helas asked.

Aeryn really had no idea why she had said that. "Yes… Then why did you put him here to care for me? Weren't you concerned he might harm me? That seems to be against your customs."

Helas took Rorx's arm while he gave his mate a weighty stare. "Perhaps she is… more than we had foreseen," he said softly.

Aeryn was startled. "I am more what?"

The male came to her and knelt down at her side. "Aeryn Sun. We do not wish to either harm you or keep you here. The leaders of our group have been determining how we may return you."

Aeryn bristled. "That's going to be tricky! Our soldiers will likely kill you and me on sight! Especially if they see me with you."

Helas nodded. "Exactly. You know what we already suspect. And what Rorx was saying was that we do not think that _you_ harbor any ill will to us, in spite of being a Peacekeeper."

"In spite of being a Peacekeeper? What the frell is that supposed to mean?" She grabbed a goblet and threw it at them, water spraying everywhere. "I am a Peacekeeper soldier! Tell me!"

Rorx sighed and grabbed her hand. "Aeryn Sun. Now that you can walk much better our leaders have decided that you should be returned to the forest. We will give you your weapon, and your gear, even the locator beacon."

"And then what?" Aeryn asked.

"Then you will be found by your people. Our encampment location is unknown to you and we have not allowed you to leave this room. So we may safely return you with no harm to ourselves," he told her.

"Just like that?"

"Of course," Helas said. "Simple."

Aeryn thought that their plan might be too simple. How could she explain the surgery to her arm or where she had been for three solar days? "I don't think it will be that easy," she told them warily.

Rorx smiled down at her and took her chin in his large furry hand. "I think that you are too clean. We shall have to remedy that."

Her mouth could only make a small silent, "Oh," for when Rorx touched her chin, somehow past and present switched places.

She felt the touch of not only Rorx but also some other hand touching her. While Rorx's hand was furry, it was large, and the new one was furry as well, but it was very small.

"Crichton?" Aeryn called out.

"What are you doing to her?" she heard D'Argo shout. "Stop that!"

A high pitched voice seeped into her ears. "Shhh. No harm to her. Only examining."

"Well, stop it anyway!" D'Argo yelled into her ear. "Let her go! And take these hezmana binders off me!"

Aeryn wanted to speak, but the chaotic combination of her memory of Rorx and Helas mixing with D'Argo's shouts stopped her cold. What was happening? She had to get the pod's nose up, but the controls were not effective and she saw the desert rushing up to meet them. D'Argo was fighting her and the pod controls were complete dren as the rocks reached out to kill them!

"Frell!" she yelled and this time it was clearly the present for her voice made her head ache and one of her flailing arms struck something small, warm, and furry, which squeaked in dismay.

**Notes:**

**Hezmana = Hynerian curse word**


	27. Chapter 27

Chapter 27

Pilot

Pilot watched while Zhaan and Rygel climbed into the pod. Rygel flew inside grumbling all the while as Zhaan faltered going up the boarding steps. "The pod is fully fueled and your special equipment is secured aboard," Pilot told her.

Zhaan looked into one of Moya's camera lenses with concern. "Pilot, you and Moya will be safe? Keep a sharp scan for any Peacekeeper patrols."

"Zhaan, we are far out in the Uncharted Territories. Peacekeepers rarely venture this far out. I don't believe that we should have any trouble."

"All the same, keep a careful scan watch."

"We will," he told her. "And Zhaan?"

She paused in the pod's hatchway. "What is it Pilot?"

"I… well… ahem, Moya and I wish you luck. But hurry if you can. I don't like the looks of that sandstorm down there."

"Are you coming, you big blue bitch?" yelled Rygel from inside the pod. "And its frelling freezing in here! What's the big idea? My yazmots will totally disappear, it's so cold!"

"Rygel," chimed in Pilot, "Zhaan and I discussed that we should pre-cool the transport to increase the time that the life system may keep a livable temperature. It will extend your time on the planet's surface."

"Wonderful!" the Hynerian shouted. "My arse is freezing off already! I wish you had warned me!"

Zhaan grinned into the camera as she closed the pod hatch. "That is one thing we can always count on," she whispered into her comms which she wore on her wrist.

"Yes. Dominar Rygel will be complaining," Pilot finished for her. "Best of luck, Zhaan. Bring them back."

"If the Goddess wishes then she may protect us, Pilot. I pray that she will, but I thank you."

Pilot depressurized the hanger deck and had Moya open the side hatch. The pod lifted on its jets and slowly moved outside. He held his breath until it cleared the opening as those were the times that accidents were most likely to happen.

"Pilot?" called Zhaan.

"Yes, Zhaan?"

"We're clear of Moya now and remember that if the Peacekeepers show up, starburst away."

"Moya understands, Zhaan." Pilot almost laughed next. "How is the Dominar doing?"

"He's got himself wrapped up in several blankets. Looks like a Beterion melnap," Zhaan laughed, "one that is complaining."

"Yes… but stay safe."

Pilot tracked the pod streaking away to start their landing trajectory.

"Their chances of success are…" Moya said.

"Good, I hope," said Pilot. "Moya… I shall stay vigilant on the scanning."

"Tracking it until touchdown, yes," she said in his head.

"Thank you Moya."

"Of course," she said and if she could smile, she would have. "Do you think they will be successful?"

Pilot sighed. "I hope so, Moya." He commanded a DRD to enter his den, drive across the access way and perch on the console in front of him. He tapped into the vision feed of the machine and looked at himself. "Is that what Officer Sun sees when she looks at me?" he asked aloud.

Moya chuckled which he felt _and_ heard, as the Leviathan's bass voice boomed through his den. "Do you every wonder what you look like to others?" he then asked her.

"No," she said. "I am a Leviathan. I know what I look like."

"I never quite thought of it that way."

She chuckled then, her deep moaning voice echoed through all the levels of his den, which spanned many tiers.

Pilot kept several scanners locked onto the transport, which disappeared around the limb of the planet since Moya was locked in geosync orbit over the wreck site. Part of his mind counted down the microts until the pod was visible after more than a half orbit around the planet. "Zhaan, are you receiving me?"

He heard the harrumph of Rygel. "I'm on the comms, Pilot. We should be touching down in just over one thousand microts. Any suspicious traffic up there?" Pilot could hear Rygel's teeth chattering.

"None, Rygel. Moya and I have been watching that storm down there. You will have at best an arn until the storm hits the crashed pod. I suggest that you do not tarry."

Rygel laughed. "If you think I'm staying down in that drennish inferno for more than one microt… hah!"

Pilot spent part of his attention monitoring the descending pod, supervising a horde of DRDs that were checking out Moya's propulsors, while a hundred others attended to the many mechanical and electrical systems of the Leviathan. Most of her components were biological, but others were bio-electric and bio-mechanical. Since Pilot never slept, and he was linked directly into Moya's neural circuits, he could both monitor and control hundreds of functions all at once.

John Crichton had been amazed at the operation of the ship and the way that Pilot was connected into her neural components. "So Pilot," he said standing on the edge of an access ramp as he stared down into the depths of his den, "you know everything that happens on board?"

"No, Commander, not exactly. I do not eavesdrop or look into quarters."

He had laughed. "If you can call a former jail cell _personal_ quarters. Sorry Pilot, I'm not complaining."

"I understand, Commander."

"You don't have to call me Commander, Pilot. John or Crichton will work."

It was fairly early after Crichton had come aboard and he was still adjusting to life aboard. "Well… which would you prefer?"

John had nodded to him and sauntered over to look him the eye. "Like I said. No need to be formal."

"Is it common for humans to address one another in this way?"

"Sure. If we're friends."

"Commander Crichton, I hardly know you so I cannot say with any certainty that we are friends."

"Just like Aeryn - she doesn't trust me at all."

"Well… she is a Peacekeeper… a soldier. So if you're not a Peacekeeper, you're…"

"An enemy. Great," John answered. "But considering that Crais guy wants my head on a platter and he'd have locked up her too, she didn't have many options."

"So I have heard. General Ka D'Argo explained the… _situation_… to me. I am… _uncertain_… about having a Peacekeeper on board."

"They held you prisoner too. You and Moya both." said John. "Like the rest."

Pilot cocked his head at looked quite hard at the human - such an odd word - considering he looked so much like a Sebacean, the race of the Peacekeepers. "You, ahem, do understand then."

John nodded to him then threw him a salute. "Seems we've all been locked up at times. But you are free now." He turned to go.

"Commander?"

The human stopped and looked back over his shoulder. "Yes?"

"Moya says - thank you - for understanding the situation. She also tells me that she is glad that you are aboard. You are…"

"I'm what?" John asked, almost annoyed.

"Interesting. Moya thinks that humans are _interesting_. You look so much like a Sebacean…" Pilot tried to smile at the man, "but you are _not_ one."

"That's for damn sure," Crichton said and left the den. "See you later alligator!"

Moya got his attention. "Alligator?"

Pilot shook his large helmet-shaped head. "I have no idea, Moya."

Part of Pilot's mind recalled that early conversation with John Crichton as another part watched the tiny racing speck of the descending transport pod far below.

"We're now into the atmosphere, Pilot!" Rygel called. "The air is thick with dust! Can't see much at all!"

"Watch out for those rock spires, you two!" Pilot shouted.

"We know, Pilot," Zhaan called. "Rygel can you see anyth…" Her voice dropped into static then came back stronger. "SSzzss… landing… szzssgg… ycle… rocks!"

"Zhaan? Rygel!" Pilot turned his attention completely to the pod's transmissions. "Can you two hear me?! Zhaan? Rygel? Are you receiving me?" he nearly screamed.

But all he heard in reply to his transmissions was the crackle of static and an empty silence. "Moya!" he yelled out. "We've lost them too!"

Moya groaned, her deep voice echoing through all her compartments and tiers.


	28. Chapter 28

Chapter 28

Crichton

"Sixteen tons and what do you get? Another day older and deeper in debt!" Crichton warbled. "That's six hundred steps, or so." He sagged against the wall and squinting in the gloom, realizing that his soft singing had been covering up louder sounds and some were _voices_.

He dropped to his knees and scrabbled forward a few yards. The tunnel he was following had broadened into a respectable cavern, the walls now marked by gouges of tools, and not flowing water.

Crouching in an alcove and carefully looking out he saw figures at work; many small, furry figures with lights on their helmeted heads. They averaged around three feet tall, some wore vests and shirts, some did not, and their rabbit-like bodies were covered with a fine down. It might have been in any Earth mine, but for the odd look of the miners, as tools struck the rock face, rocks fell, and the workers scooped them up with rather common looking tools. The rock was piled onto the bed of a large vehicle where the considerable pile grew. One figure blew a whistle and all the miners downed tools and then hopped (literally, for John saw they had feet with very long toes) onto the truck. The truck started up with an electric whine and slowly moved away, bouncing over the rough floor on large tires.

"Well, _wabbit_ tracks!" he said after the truck had moved away a bit, as he examined their foot prints. "Just like the ones topside! John, old boy, I think if you follow that truck, you might find your friends." Following slowly around rock piles and what looked like metal shoring timbers he trailed the vehicle until he came to a fork in the cavern. Faint lights and a dust trail showed the truck had gone right at the junction but hearing a shout, which sounded just like D'Argo, he took the left hand tunnel, slowly and quietly.

D'Argo struggled with the binders that held his hands together, wrists firmly clamped by what appeared to be Peacekeeper hardware. He snarled, remembering too many times he had been chained by such. His ankles were also restrained and that made gave him a panicky feeling which he dreaded. So he breathed deeply and growled at the small creature.

"Shush, you large thing!" said the animal that crouched near Aeryn. It had rheumy looking eyes and bedraggled fur and it smelled.

"Let me go!" D'Argo shouted. "Take these things off me!" he sneezed. "So that's what I was smelling." The more he looked at the creature he got the impression it was a _she_.

The little creature hopped over to him and stared down at him. "Harmony. Peace."

"How the frell can you say _peace_ and _harmony_ when you have me restrained?"

The thing inspecting him from feet to face, nose twitching all the while. Then she smiled down at him, exposing four large incisors. "We wish you no harm."

"Like I will believe that!" yelled D'Argo.

The being hopped back over to Aeryn, touching her face with its furry paws. Now more of the animals came into the cave and sat around the walls looking silently at them.

Aeryn stirred and cried out, "Crichton?"

"What are you doing to her?" D'Argo shouted "Stop that!"

"Shhh. No harm. Only examining," the being said soothingly.

"Well, stop it anyway!" D'Argo yelled. "Let her go! And take these hezmana binders off me! NOW!"

"Frell!" Aeryn yelled, striking out with her arm and hit the creature, which squeaked in pain.

"Stop that!" she yelled but backed away.

Aeryn struggled to sit up and put her head in her hands. "Oww, my head!" she moaned and looked over at her friend. "What a head ache!" She peered blearily at D'Argo. "Where _are_ we?"

He sighed. "Underground. It would appear that we are surrounded Aeryn, by _them_," he pointed.

Aeryn looked at the small cavern, where they were now encircled by twenty or so of the furry creatures, most of whom had skittered in when she had struck blindly at the first one. "Ah, yes," she sighed as her hand stole down to her empty holster. "And, I suppose shooting our way out is out of the question, considering they have my pulse pistol."

"They took my Qualta blade too," D'Argo whispered.

"No shoot," said one of the things.

"Why do you have my friend chained? He won't hurt you," Aeryn said to the speaker. "Who are you?"

D'Argo growled and shook his head, hair and tendrils flying. "Do not be so _certain_ that _I _won't hurt you! Get these binders off me!" he cried and shook his bound hands at them.

Several of the creatures jumped back or cowered at his shout, but a few sprang up armed with picks, shovels and other tools, poised to strike.

"D'Argo!" Aeryn yelled. "Chill off! Now!" She brushed at the dirt on her vest and sat up straighter. "I am Aeryn Sun and this is my friend." She had learned long ago that it was useful to exchange names – extremely useful – otherwise you were only a faceless and friendless enemy.

"Does he bite, Aeryn Sun?" squeaked one of the beings, who was wearing a yellow vest of many pockets and a helmet with lights on it. He hopped through the crowd and confronted her. He cocked his head from side to side, long nose twitching. Then he swept off his helmet and bowed to her. "I am named Overseer Adnon. I had you brought down here."

He stepped slowly over to D'Argo and prodded his leg with a long-toed foot. "Do you always keep such large and fierce pets?" He sniffed. "I'd have thought one such as this you would keep on a leash. I see you have strong rings set into his collar bones."

Aeryn heard a warning hiss from D'Argo. "I suggest that you do not provoke him, His name is Ka D'Argo and he is no pet. He is a Luxan warrior and it would be a very bad idea if you made him angry."

"That's right, little one," snarled D'Argo. "Now! Who _are_ you people?"

John Crichton stepped from behind the large boulder where he had been crouching for some time. "_Ewoks_, Aeryn," he said, grinning. "So that would make you D'Argo – Chewbacca – and then Aeryn would be called… Leia."

**Notes:**

"**Sixteen Tons" = A song written by George S. Davis (this is contended by Merle Travis who claims he wrote it) the son of a Kentucky coal miner. It was popularized by Tennessee Ernie Ford in a 1955 song release. The song is the lament of the hard life of a coal miner who lived in debt to the 'company' and their store.**

**Wabbit = From cartoon character Elmer Fudd's exclamation 'Shhh! I'm hunting wabbits!'**

**Ewoks = Small bipedal forest dwellers from the Star Wars movies; inhabitants of Endor.**

**Chewbacca = Bipedal furry and loud companion of the Star Wars heroes - a wookiee**

**Leia = A female character from a famous series of space-operas.**


	29. Chapter 29

Chapter 29

Aeryn

"Crichton!" yelled out Aeryn, as she jumped to her feet and swayed for a microt. She was glad to see John, fearing he had been injured, or worse in the crash. In spite of a part of her brain resisting the gesture, she found herself smiling at him.

Crichton was any number of things. He was frustrating, confusing, and a non-linear thinker, but at the same time intriguing. Given that she had given up her Peacekeeper rank, position, and a coveted posting because of him she should be permanently furious at him for frelling up her life. But his eternal hope and ways of seeking solutions had a strange way of getting under her skin and lifting her spirits all at the same time.

She had been in her Prowler, shadowing the Leviathan that had been breaking away from the convoy for reports said the prisoners aboard had escaped and killed their guards. The ship was jinking and rolling evasively and she was almost ready to slip into the docking bay, when an alert sounded on her scanner. To her amazement and horror the control collar on the beast was blasted away and in a few microts the whole world went blue-white as the Leviathan went _starburst_.

When she had become aware of her surroundings she found they had disarmed her and thrown her into a cell, which was oh so ironic for less than a half an arn before they had occupied these very prison cells! She perched on a bench at the rear of the cell with the wall to her back; no one could attack from that direction. So she waited for developments. Save your strength and your anger, she recited to herself at that moment. They dropped another Peacekeeper in with her; one that was semi-conscious. It was a tall brown-haired man and he was naked. A DRD had unceremoniously dumped his clothing in with him; strange clothing unlike the common red or black of a soldier.

The figure rolled over and started yelling. "HEY! WHY DID YOU TAKE OFF MY CLOTHES?"

"We examined you." A Hynerian outside the cell on a floating chair addressed the man as he scrambled into his outfit. "And we can no more trust _you_ than we can trust _that_!" the Hynerian chortled.

Aeryn loosened the neck ring clamp and pulled her helmet free. She shook her head freeing her braid from the coil at the back of her head.

The man settled his clothes, stood up, and came towards her. "Hi. Uh - my name's John -" he said, holding a hand out. He was smiling and that _was_ odd.

Aeryn grabbed him and flipped him against the wall. When he tried to rise she kicked his legs from under him, stomped over to him and dropped onto his chest, thighs clamped around his ears and with one hand on his throat. "What is your rank and regiment? And why are you out of uniform? Rank and regiment _now_!" she screamed at her fellow prisoner.

She let him go in disgust when he didn't answer and dashed to the cell door. "Let me out of here you Hynerian slug!" she shouted at someone she later knew as _Rygel_, while pushing hard at the barred doors.

Rygel told her, "Your efforts are _wasted_ _Peacekeeper_. You of all people should know _that_!" The way he said _Peacekeeper_it was a curse to him. The little Hynerian gleefully taunted her from outside the cell.

The man she'd just decked rose up, rubbing at his throat. "Peacekeeper? You're one of those out there attacking the ship?" He rolled his eyes. "They think I'm one of _you_?"

Aeryn turned to the man. "Officer Aeryn Sun, Special Peacekeeper Commando, Icarion Company, Pleisar Regiment. Identify yourself."

"My rank… is _Commander._ I'm _not_ military. At least not any military _you_ know. I'm a _damn scientist_," John answered, obviously disorganized.

Yes, she had sighed to herself; he was a damned scientist. That explained a lot about Crichton. And he was NO peacekeeper, not even a Sebacean. But he looked so similar… so much like all she knew.

Crichton claimed he had studied many subjects and was an expert in some; but not all. He didn't know how to shoot a pulse pistol, and had admitted that he was _no_ soldier; no soldier for certain considering he'd almost shot himself when they took out Crais' guards on the commerce planet. So he had saved her from execution when they escaped from that place. Her military training and conditioning _almost_ made her stay – to her doom. But Crichton made the Luxan drag her back to their transport. The Luxan had to almost sit on her to keep from bolting out the hatch as it closed – closed on her former life.

And now… she scanned the stone walls and ceiling about her… once more she was locked in a room with John. John Crichton – damn scientist – astronaut – Commander… But he was still interesting to her. Such a peaceful outlook he had, so unlike her people. Her vision wavered then and balance started to fail. She tottered and would have fallen, but for John who leaped over the heads of creatures to steady her.

"Steady there. You took a hell of a knock on the head a couple arns ago. And Aeryn, its chill _out_."

"What?" She said, grateful for his steadying hand, almost wishing his hand would linger…

"You said chill _off_. It's chill _out_."

She brushed his hand away and crossed her arms. "_Whatever_. _Now_ - who's this Leia person?" she asked crossly.

"Never mind."

She looked at him in irritation. "We'll discuss _her_ later." He had the most annoying habit of speaking in riddles. Who was Leia? Another almost-love, like that tralk Gilina, or someone from Urp? Another of the great mysteries of John Crichton, she mused.

"Who are you?" demanded Overseer Adnon, breaking into her thoughts. "Where have you come from?"

John vaguely waved at the tunnel he had emerged from. "Back there." He looked down at Aeryn. "How are you feeling?" He took her elbows and forced her to sit down.

Aeryn felt herself being set back on the rocky floor. "I seem to have been knocked unconscious." Having Crichton nearby felt – _nice_ – in an odd way, but she was not used to having people take care of her. She flashed on the one time they recreated. The next morning Crichton, as always, wanted to talk.

"Aeryn… um… about last night..." he had started to say from the snarled sheets of the bed they had shared.

She really wanted to jump on him again and almost did, but her self-control reasserted itself. "Yes it's fine John. It's just not top priority now," she had said testily. But sitting on a jagged rock that hurt her backside with his arm across her back that feeling came back to her. Why had she worried so about Crichton? She knew why and _it was frelling_ sure she knew _why_. She lifted a hand to touch his, the one by her leg, just as he jerked it away and stood.

John was now the one that was thinking hard, his eyes flicking around the room, sizing up these creatures. Furry though they may be, their feral snarls when startled and long fingers and toes suggested to him that for their size they were very strong. He peered down at their captors. "What's the big idea? Why have you assumed we are your enemies?"

"Perhaps you are," said Adnon. He waved a furry paw to the one who had been sniffing both Aeryn and D'Argo. "This one says that Aeryn Sun, you were not conscious, apparently from a fall or a blow. Your large and angry friend we had to, ahem, tranquilize."

D'Argo roared his displeasure. "I thought so! That was why I was so frelling… dreamy…" He sagged. "Zhaan and Rygel will be looking for us, I am sure."

Adnon twittered something and three of the creatures sped off. "There are more of you?"

Aeryn caught the wary look in Crichton's eyes. "Nooo… we are… alone," she said cautiously. John nodded his head so she added, "You can probably tell we're not from around here."

Adnon sat back on his haunches and as he did, the once threatening D'Argo relaxed. "We thought you were off-worlders. Seems we were correct. So why have you come here?"

"More important," said John, "why did you drag all three of us underground?"

"You were near the _Shrine_ when we found you. Whatever were you doing blasting holes in our cliffs?" Adnon leaned forward as he said this. "Not very neighborly," he huffed.

"The desert is quite hot, and if we had not sought shelter, we might have died," said Aeryn. "So we fled underground. It was cooler. We had to make an opening… if we disturbed your sacred Shrine we…"

"I see," said Adnon, cutting her off. "But you?" he pointed at Crichton. "How came you to be below?"

John bent down and looked right at Adnon. "I was outside the cave and came looking for my friends. They were gone, along with all our supplies," he answered. "Someone must have knocked me out, for next thing I knew, I was being dragged along a tunnel." He squinted at the creatures. "And I don't think he was one of you."

Adnon stroked his nose then scratched at his shoulder. "We are the Lackos people. We have lived on Morlamm for many lifetimes. Describe this person."

"He was about your size, I think. But larger and bulkier and I don't think his language skills were very good. Or the translator microbes were having a bad day."

Adnon and several others looked quite concerned.

"What?" asked Crichton. "What's wrong?"

"The, uhm, one who brought you down…" Adnon turned aside and said something and his listeners made a barking noise.

"That does not sound good," muttered Aeryn.

Adnon rose to his feet. "I think the Council and I must discuss this." He turned to leave.

"What about us?" asked D'Argo.

Adnon stopped and whispered instructions. "Release the D'Argo, but stay well back. Do not let them leave."

D'Argo stayed still as they released his bonds then stretched his arms and legs, while the Lackos hopped about finally settling down with picks and shovels held at the ready.

John sighed. "Well, I suppose that could have gone worse," he muttered.

Aeryn rubbed her head. "While we wait, John, how about explaining who Ewoks are? And about Leia?"

John hung his head and sighed. "Long, long ago, in a galaxy far, far away…"

**Notes:**

**Chill off = Inspired by a former co-worker for whom English was a second language. His actual statement was confusing, but amusing. :)**

**Tralk = A female-type person with loose morals or none at all.**

**Urp = Aeryn Sun and others often called Earth Urp.**


	30. Chapter 30

Chapter 30

Zhaan

The pod set down in the blinding sandstorm just as Rygel pleaded into the comms. "You yutzy thing! Put me through! Pilot! Do you hear me?" He pounded a fist on the panel. "No use."

Zhaan secured the pod control panel and looked across the compartment at Rygel. "Hitting it will not correct our loss of communication. There's likely a lot of static interference in the storm." She paused and listened to the howling wind outside. "Listen to the wind."

He gave it one more thump for good measure. "Now Pilot doesn't know that we have landed! Yutz!" He went to the port and looked at the opaque brown vista. "You'd better grow roots if you're going out there! The wind will blow your blue arse away!"

"Pilot will figure it out, but," she looked out the front ports, "he may have thought we crashed as well." She put her hands together and stared at the wall for a few microts.

"How can you be so serene?" Rygel asked. "Must be your priestess gibberish keeping you calm."

"I have learned, Rygel, to accept what I _can_ control and what I _cannot_."

"Humph, well, whatever you're eating, drinking, or smoking I wish I had some, for I'm shaking in fear!"

Zhaan went to him and stroked his brow ridge. "Rygel we must rescue our friends." Her other hand rubbed his quaking body to comfort him.

"I know… but I'm also freezing and right outside it's a frelling furnace!" he bellowed. He pointed to the nearly opaque ports. "Covered in dust and sand and you're going out in that!"

She bobbed her head then started to climb into the suit. "I believe that the wrecked pod is not far away and I'll tie a lifeline to my waist."

Rygel watched silently as she prepared herself, then he lifted her helmet and raised it over her head. "You know…"

"Yes?" She actually wished that Rygel had longer legs and was a more mobile biped. Considering his squat form was designed for a more aquatic existence, that was _extremely_ unlikely. But if he was taller he would be able to go outside… her breath caught for a moment.

Rygel looked into her blue face dotted with gold spots on her nose and forehead. "They're very lucky… ahem… _we're_ very lucky to have _you_ with us, priestess P'au Zotah Zhaan. If they had to depend on _me_…" he sighed, "they'd all be up to their mivonks in dren."

Zhaan looked hard into Rygel's slit-pupil eyes. "We'll find them and bring them home." She knew it _was_ the thing to say, but her mouth was dry with fear. She did not want to exit the craft, but she must - she must! "They are our…"

Rygel's stubby fingers stroked away a blob of watery sap that trickled from her left eye. "I know… I know… _friends_, as much as it pains me to say it." He shook his stubby head. "Even that human Crichton."

"John is a good person." Crichton might very well be the best of them she thought, but each member of Moya's crew was unique in their own ways. Some had strength, knowledge, cunning, were skilled at weapons, or controlling a Leviathan, while John Crichton had a compelling nature to succeed. He had told Aeryn that his world was still prone to death and disease, even after four thousand cycles of civilization. So given he was an astronaut, such an odd word, he must have been better than most; having the need to explore. Clearly he had gotten his wish, but not in the way he might have imagined.

"That's what worries me! And that madman Crais won't stop pursuing him! And here we are all stewed together in the same pot! This is all Crichton's fault!"

Zhaan shook her bald head. "That's not true! Crais would be chasing us whether John was aboard Moya or not."

Rygel sighed. Right as always, he knew. When he returned to the throne of Hyneria, and his 600 billion subjects were back under his _benevolent_ reign, he must find a counselor such as Zhaan - perhaps not a Delvian - but one who was wise and calm. He started to tell her that when she spoke.

"Rygel, I think you had better put that helmet on me before my nerve fails." Her voice shook. "Now, please?" She wanted to be back on Delvia, long before the Peacekeepers arrived and long before she had committed murder.

Rygel smiled and putting his fleshy slit of a mouth up to hers kissed her lips. "My _brave_ and beautiful blue Delvian," he said kindly. "Better make sure the helmet is clamped tight."

Zhaan started and then kissed him back. "May the Goddess keep you safe, Rygel."

"Humph, all of us, you mean! Now, the helmet."

Zhaan clamped the helmet to the neck ring, appreciating Rygel's help, especially with the connectors of the modified life-system. "Heavy."

"Yes. Water ice is heavy. What about the spare suit?"

"It's in that bag on the floor. Clip it to my backpack."

Rygel used the lifters in his chair to raise the load and did as she directed. "This _has_ to work."

Zhaan carefully checked her equipment. "I hope it does."

Rygel sniffed. "There's that word _Crichton_ uses." Then he tried to smile at her as she saw his insincere look. "Don't take too long."

"Dear Rygel, I don't know if the comms will work out there. So do not be upset if I am out of contact. I'll check the other pod first."

Rygel floated to the hatch. "If you don't come back, I'll wait until nightfall, or at least until the fuel gets low and it turns into an oven in here. Then I'll leave without you."

"I understand," she said. "Thank you."

"But I warn you," he said sadly, "it will be a very empty Leviathan I'd be going back to without you and the others, so…" he muttered, "you'd better come back! All of you!"

The pod door opened at his signal and she stepped into the airlock. She struggled through the hatchway and waited while the hatch closed. The last thing she saw was Rygel's apprehensive look, smiling grimly at her with his gray hand waving.

**Notes:**

**Mivonks = Male genitals**


	31. Chapter 31

Chapter 31

Aeryn

As Crichton wove a story of righteous intergalactic war, magical ancient faiths, as a coming of age tale across a host of worlds - all from the mind of an Urp god named Joergge Lukazz – Aeryn felt her headache start to take over again and she started to slip into a drowsy state.

D'Argo's voice echoed through her head. "So these Ewoks and Wookiees battled the Evil Empire on a forest planet?"

"Yeah, big time," Crichton answered. "Aeryn, you still with us?"

"Yes John… go on," she said dreamily as memories took over.

The forest mud sucked at her boots, while various barbed and thorny plants and vines stung, scratched, and clawed at her. The air was heavy and wet with no breeze and the sun was fading leaving the forest in gloom. "Frell!" Aeryn cried as another vine tripped her.

Rorx's mighty hand and arm pulled her to her feet. "You are doing well, Aeryn Sun." He chortled as he wiped mud from her face. "Now you look like you have been lost for three days."

"Great. Wonderful," she hissed. "If this was part of your plan, I'm getting bonus points!" She looked down at her filthy trousers and boots, her tunic half ripped away, the once neat bandage on her left arm now a soggy mass of smelly ooze and mashed plant juices.

Helas had replaced her surgically antiseptic bandage with a bit of her torn shirt. "You must look the part Aeryn Sun. There now you are suitably shabby."

Aeryn said, "Thank you… for… saving my life and my arm." She almost blubbered and she didn't know why.

Helas bowed her head down to the ground. "It is my honor to heal the sick and injured."

"All the same… thank you," Aeryn said, then she was blindfolded and marched out into the forest in the center of six vulpeds armed with stolen weapons.

Some time passed for the sun was sliding away and Aeryn had grown hungry. "How far have we come?" she asked but Rorx had only smiled and shook his head _no_.

The boy Eaon had been walking on point and slunk back to the center of the group. "Quiet!" he hissed. "I'll bet they can hear you all the way to Capital City, Aeryn! Must you be so noisy?"

"I was being trained to be a pilot _first_ and later I'll be a soldier. As it is, I can barely reach the cockpit pedals." She swiped at a stinging inset that seemed fascinated with the hair hanging by her face. "And you live down in this dren? Shoo!"

Rorx suddenly grabbed her and pulled her down into the brush. "Someone comes," he murmured.

Aeryn raised her pulse pistol and whirled. "Where?"

Rorx stifled a chortle. "They are far away, but not so far that they might not image us on thermal scans."

"How can you tell?"

Eaon tapped his large ear. "Better hearing then you."

"Oh, yutz," she said as another insect tried to fly up her nose. "How can you people live down here?" She swatted the thing away but then it tried to enter her ear.

Eaon tilted her head up towards the sky where the stars are starting to come out between the darkening trees. "How can you people live up there?"

"Right. I suppose it's what you're used to…" she said, but Rorx cut her off with a furry hand across her mouth.

Other vulpeds, heavily armed, dropped into the brush and were instantly invisible. He put his mouth by her ear. "Your people. Half a metra now," he whispered.

Rorx made some hand signal and other vulpeds slunk away, back the way they had come. But in the dimness it was hard for Aeryn to see quite where they had come from or to where they were escaping.

"I guess this is it," she said. "Time to go."

"Give us a few microts before you active the beacon?" Rorx handed her the emergency beacon. "I've put the power cell back."

Aeryn looked hard at the two vulpeds. "You could have killed me at any time."

Eaon grinned at her. "But we did not. We don't do that. We're not savages, Pilot Aeryn Sun."

Rorx sighed. "Please… do not… tell…" he cleared his throat. "Our children…"

"I won't tell. I don't know _anything_." Aeryn sat back for a moment knowing she should hate these people. First they had tried to _kill her_, then they _saved her life_ and cared for her, and… oh frell! It was all so _complicated!_ "Mostly."

"Good. Eaon, we must go," Rorx said gruffly. "You're path is your own, young Sun. Your culture may have other ideas, but you are your _own_ person."

Aeryn sat silent as he spoke.

Eaon chimed in. "Each day we must decide if we are _warriors_ or _peace giver_s. Does not your tribe's name - _Peacekeeper_ - invoke that idea?"

Rorx touched her face gently. "Our words may not mean much to you now, but they may in cycles to come, Aeryn Sun."

Rorx crouched to crawl away while Eaon put his face next to hers with his thin arms around her shoulders. "Aeryn… I…"

"You should go. If the patrol sees you…"

"I know," he whispered to her. "When you are flying above the world, will you think back and remember me?"

She started to answer, "Ye…" as a pulse rifle bolt split the night just overhead.

In an instant the air was rent by multiple streaks of light as rifle bolts went in all directions. Aeryn hugged the base of the plant she was hiding behind and let the superheated blasts pass. She realized the Peacekeeper patrol had located the vulpeds just at the wrong time!

So she raised her pistol, turned away from the retreating natives and fired three blasts to destroy the crowns of trees to bring branches and wreckage down. She fired a few more bolts wildly before she started to call out for help.

"I'm over here!" She shouted as a large soldier in full field gear scooped her up and withdrew.

"That you Sun?" asked the one carrying her. His voice was distorted by his helmet.

"It's me!" she said and could only hold on tightly as he ran to the rear, dodging fallen trees and charging soldiers.

At last he stopped and put her down at a portable medic station. He stripped off his battle mask and she was astounded to see Inex Shalex crouched at her side. "Are you hurt?" he asked with concern.

"No, not really. You got away," she said. "They got Luced, though."

Inex sighed. "I saw. It took a frelling long time to get Command to authorize a patrol out here! Lucky we found you! You're _metras_ from where you went down."

Aeryn winced as the medic poked at her left arm.

"Not bad. You do this yourself?" the woman asked.

"Yeah, tore my shirt for a bandage."

"Pretty drenny thing on your first mission," Inex told her. "Good thing you stayed away from the vulpeds. Nasty things! Rumor says they eat their meat raw and there's nothing better they like to snack on than _Peacekeeper!_ But this whole operation had been futzed up, they say! These stupid natives won't work in the mines, I heard. They starve themselves rather than work for us!"

Aeryn could only sit in the mud and listen as Inex and the medic swapped horror stories of what _they said_ or what _they'd heard_. It was all dren, she knew for the vulpeds were neither horrific nor eaters of raw meat. That was all propaganda. They were peaceful people and the Peacekeepers had invaded their world and _her people_ were brutal occupiers.

"Why didn't you use the locator?" asked Inex who pointed at the thing hanging off her belt.

"I... uhm… I heard that the natives got their claws on receivers! Didn't want to give myself away!" Aeryn laughed. "I was too smart for them!"

Inex tousled her hair. "Good girl. I'll buy you a fellip nectar when we get back to base."

Her return to base was rapid and she was quickly evacced off-world to a command carrier. Along the way the bandage on her arm was whisked away and somehow the exact details of her recovery were forgotten, or misfiled, or it may have been that a ground attack destroyed most of the infrastructure that would have reported it all.

It appeared that not all vulpeds were peaceful toward Peacekeepers for when they were _combatants _with guns in their hands, and not _prisoners_, they gladly picked them off. Most of Advance Base Delta was pulled back to Capital City soon after she left, which may have contributed to the missing episode not landing in Aeryn's files.

Eight cycles later when Aeryn Sun was a full-fledged Prowler pilot, she heard through the rumor mill that a major offensive on Vulpak II had broken out. In the fighting both ground and space garrisons had somehow been decimated.

Worse, the whispered rumors said, the vulped battle leader was now a child named _Eaon Sun _who had somehow gotten his grubby paws on a Type 86 Stalker. In a bold attack he blew up the main planet-side power station, which supplied all the terellium mines, _and_ then took out the orbital garrison station.

"How ridiculous!" a boozy and bawdy sergeant had shouted in her ear. "One of those vermin having a name like yours!"

She heard the news in a crowded recreational lounge aboard the Carrier _Convergizat_ and she had laughed in public at the absurdity. But in her head she made a grim and silent tribute to the child she had once known – the boy who wanted to be a _pilot_.

"Yes," she said to herself, "I do remember you, Eaon." She touched her left biceps lightly and tossed off the fillip nectar in her flagon.

**Notes:**

**Fellip Nectar = An alcoholic drink made from fruit nectar. Aeryn Sun once told Crichton that the Earth beverage - beer - tasted like fellip nectar to her.**


	32. Chapter 32

Chapter 32

D'Argo

"You're saying this is an _entertainment_?" D'Argo asked Crichton in some amazement. "Parts of it sound much like the conflict between the Iskovian and the Chaffian Realms!"

Aeryn looked at him. "I didn't know that you studied history."

He nodded. "It's required training on Luxor." He had gotten high marks for his research paper on the tactics of the Chaffians in their assault on a particularly fortified position on an asteroid base so he remembered it very well. "We study other conflicts; at least our warriors do, so we may learn of war – both what works and what does not."

"Ah yes, so you study tactics and strategy as well." Aeryn appraised the Luxan slowly. "I see."

D'Argo sat up straighter. "Would you expect any less?"

John looked from him to Aeryn and exhaled loudly. "Two soldiers… so when was this war, D'Argo?"

D'Argo pursed his lips. "It ended around three thousand cycles ago."

"Wow. Quite a while ago," John said. "Must have been quite a war to remember it that long."

"Yes, quite a war." Aeryn smirked at D'Argo then answered John. "Crichton, that war lasted 277 cycles."

John grimaced. "Why are you grinning at me? What? Poor little Earthman doesn't know anything?"

"John that war resulted in the scorching of five major worlds and the loss of countless lives." D'Argo sighed. "We remember and study it because it was so destructive."

"I see. A little worse than an old movie," sighed John.

"Yes, John," Aeryn said. "But about your entertainment, who won that struggle?"

John shook his head. "This _really_ is a strange new world. Well, the Rebel Alliance won of course."

D'Argo looked at Aeryn and smirked. "Why _of course_? The conflict could go either way."

Crichton shook his head. "Wow, you really don't know, do you?"

"How can we know?" Aeryn asked.

John sat there open mouthed in amazement.

"What?" D'Argo asked. Crichton came from a strange world, he knew. A planet of hundreds of what he called countries, with vast oceans that separated continents, and with seven billion people on one world they had _no star flight_! It was population pressures that forced Luxan's to control their procreation before they could leave their planet, for they had realized that uncontrolled growth and war that might result, could destroy them all. The Iskovian war was one example of the dangers of all-out war. "From what you have told us your entertainment about war could favor either side."

John stood up, making their furry captors tense up. "You're kidding! Neither of you can tell? Isn't it obvious? It's a heroic tale!"

Aeryn waved him to sit back down which he did. "No," she answered. "It's not; not obvious."

"No heroes in the Uncharted Territories," he muttered. John looked from her and to D'Argo then shook his head sadly. "It should be clear."

D'Argo growled slightly at him. "No, John, _not_ clear. Tell us."

"Well the Empire is evil and the good guys have to defeat them! Right?" John laughed.

"I'm confused," D'Argo said which was not out of character as a lot of what Crichton said was unclear to him. "How am I supposed to know who is evil?" Generally he knew that anything that was pointing a gun, fangs, or a pointed weapon at him he considered a threat and _not necessarily_ evil.

John shook his head, bewildered. "Oh come on, guys! The Empire had subjugated whole races and they're the _bad guys_! And if they're the _bad guys_ then the _Rebels_ _have to_ be _the good guys_!"

Aeryn grimaced. "You haven't given us any evidence that the Rebels, as you call them, _or_ the Empire is necessarily any better or worse than the other, John."

"Hm, I suppose… look," he said holding his hands out in frustration, "oh crap. United Nations of Outer Space where are you?"

"United Nations? Another of your Urp institutions?" D'Argo sniffed.

John sighed. "Yes. We have this organization called the United Nations and they serve to mediate problems between nations and regions. They also help during natural disasters; famines, floods, epidemics."

"So every nation, as you call them, on your planet is a member of this association?" Aeryn asked.

"Uhm… no… not exactly." John sat there with discomfort knowing this conversation was falling out of his control quickly.

Aeryn bit her lip and said, "And since you've had this organization, you have no war? And how can you call it the UNITED nations when not every nation is a member?" Aeryn hissed.

D'Argo shook, his head tenkas flailing. "This makes no sense at all!"

John had only wanted to tell the movie story, to explain about Ewoks, and had gotten bogged down in the larger details. "Look evil and good do exist."

"Granted," D'Argo said. "But back to these Rebels and their opponents the Empire…"

"No, wait!" shouted Aeryn. "On your planet Urp…"

"Earth, Aeryn," John sighed. "It's pronounced Earth."

"Whatever. This United Nations _does not_ stop war?"

John sighed. "No. They try to. Doesn't always work out."

Aeryn sniffed. "Then what good is it?"

"John, that is insane! I'm in agreement with Aeryn." D'Argo shouted as John saw Aeryn give the Luxan a nod of agreement.

Crichton looked from Aeryn to D'Argo and groaned. "Well that got fouled up," he muttered then sat back and rubbed his forehead. "Okay, it doesn't make any sense. No sense at all."

Aeryn scoffed. "So why doesn't this organization go away? If it does not work why not dismantle it?"

"We keep trying. We have to try to make it better. The United Nations, every nation, our whole planet. Maybe out here too… there must be some way…" Crichton said earnestly, "to get you people to at least _talk_ to each other!"

D'Argo rubbed his eyes. "You are from a strange race, John." Crichton was a stranger, or worse, a perilous stranger at times, yet he had skills that were useful but at times his ideas made him think. If only there was ever enough time to talk things over and make plans to resolve conflicts! He sighed, knowing that the Luxan Council of Elders operated much as John's United Nations did on Urp. "But, I can see that you would be thoughtful allies, if ever that might happen."

Crichton relaxed. "Thanks, D'Argo. I know I don't make sense most of the time; you probably think I'm crazy! But you have to understand that the Rebels and the Jedi _have_ to win. They must!"

Aeryn rolled her eyes. "Humans," she said in scorn.

D'Argo laughed. "Yes… always looking for heroes John?"

"Pretty much," the unhappy human muttered.

Aeryn sun laughed. "Your words remind me of ancient legends of the Sebaceans from when we became Peacekeepers. You see…" She was interrupted by a group of furry Lackos who barged into the small chamber.

"Come! Come now!" one squeaked and they were all hustled from the chamber.


	33. Chapter 33

Chapter 33

Zhaan

The suit made her clumsy and the added tank of ice she carried on her back made her balance even worse. Stumbling over to the barely seen pod was bad enough as she tripped over rocks and plants, but dragging the lifeline behind her made footing nearly impossible. The life system circulated cool water which kept her fairly comfortable, but while fighting the weight of the larger backpack, which tried to tip her over backwards, and the pull of the waist tether made her quickly tired.

"I'm almost to the pod!" she announced Rygel over the comms. "Hard to see it with all the blowing sand."

"Well for frell's sake don't get off course!" He told her and then muttered, "You're braver than I am, Zhaan."

"I know, Rygel; stay on course." She chose not to comment on his half-heard remark. She managed to reach the pod and made a quick survey from what she could make out through the swirling dust clouds. "The left propulsor pod is shredded and the right one is half torn off but not crushed. The pod is tipped nose up, which is damaged; partially crushed. A miracle it held together but the passenger compartment looks intact!"

"It'll be a miracle if _any of us_ survive this!" he yelled to her. "Can you hurry? It's already getting hotter in here!"

"Doing the best I can… found the hatch." Zhaan ignored Rygel's complaint since she was the one that was getting hot, for with every step the heat boiled up through her boots. "Hatch is opening to my touch," she said after climbing the boarding stairs. "Now let me see," she said tying her lifeline to a ring by the hatch. "You might lose my comms when I go inside."

"I know! I know!" Rygel yelled, throwing the insulating blanket from his small frame. He shook his head in frustration. "Let's figure out that they're all dead so we can go home!"

Zhaan managed to lever the hatch closed against the wind and seal it. The inner door sprang open to darkness. "Aeryn? John? D'Argo? Anyone?" she called but she heard only the blast of the wind against the hull. She poked around finding little of note other than more destruction with panels were blown out and crumpled with cables and tubing hanging from walls and ceiling. She quickly checked the cargo compartment and it too was empty; empty of life or bodies.

Rygel heard her voice soon. "Rygel! It's empty! They're not inside! I'm back outside now!"

"So by the Three-Headed God where have they wandered off to?" he grumbled.

"They must have found shelter!" she said with her boots back on the rocky wasteland. "Wasn't there a cliff nearby?"

"Now it's a treasure hunt!" he moaned. "Yes, yes. About a half a metra away was the closest cliff, if I recall Moya's scan! But how long is your lifeline?"

"Not that long, Rygel. I'll have to go on without it."

"Surely the storm must have eaten them by now! Come back to the pod Zhaan! It's a fool's errand to look any longer!"

Zhaan stiffened her vertical fibers and stood up tall. "Rygel can you see me on the short range?"

"Fat lot of good that will do." Rygel went to the pod controls and turned on the imager. "I can get a good bounce off the pod, but what's that? Hm… there's a smallish blob about three motras from the pod. Wave your arms!" He watched as the blob got bigger and smaller." He sighed. "I can see you. Oh give it up, you giant blue…"

"Rygel, just give me a bearing to the nearest cliff face! NOW!"

He gulped. "Yes Zhaan," he said, knowing that was her voice of command. "Can you get to the nose of their pod?"

"Yes, walking there." She kept a hand on the pod, thankful that most of the wind was striking the other side of the wrecked transport, so she was in a relatively clear pocket of air. "I'm there Rygel!"

"Fine, fine. Alright. Put your right hand on the pod and turn about half of an arc to your left. Go in that direction! Wave your arms so I can see you on the scan and I'll guide you!"

"Fine Rygel."

"Don't get blown away!"

Zhaan sighed as she walked, more reeled and tripped along, being buffeted from time to time by wind gusts, especially after she was out of the lee side of the pod. Several times she tripped over obstacles and needed Rygel's directions to get back on track. "How much farther?"

"Oh, I don't know! The scan shows great big blobby things near you, not that far ahead!"

The storm had increased tremendously in the last few microts and it was all she could do to stagger forward, but luckily, just then, her gloved hands touched a hard surface. "Found a rock, I think!" Dimly she saw a large gray mass rising over her head through her clouded visor. She pounded on it. "It's a boulder!"

Rygel grunted with irritation. "You must be about twenty motras from the cliff. It's all one big broken up mass on my screen now. You're on your own Zhaan. Nothing more I can do from here," he said dismissively. "You're alone."

"I understand," she said, her throat dry as the air in her helmet turned from cool to warm. She reeled around the rock fighting for balance and footing on the rough ground. "No," she said into the comms, "I'm _not_ alone, Rygel. The Goddess will guide me." She expected a gruff retort from Rygel but the comms seemed to be dead.

"Rygel? Rygel?" She heard only static and the howl of the storm. "Just you and me now, my Goddess," she said, and with outstretched hands, felt her way around the rock.

It was a maze of jagged rocks she was in and she knew in a very few microts she could have been easily lost in the maelstrom. By some miracle she found herself facing a dark object nearly straight ahead.

The object was no object at all she found as she blundered her way into a dark opening. "A cave! It's a cave! Rygel! I found a cave! Don't know if you can hear me or not! I'm going inside!"

Back in the pod Rygel looked at the time piece on the controls as he called out to her. "Zhaan! Oh Zhaan? Humph. Probably dead and gone by now," he said. "Shame. Still… I did say I'd stay until nightfall." He wrinkled his slit of a nose. "Only about four arns; then I'll leave."

He floated over to the wall and got a water bottle. "Ah…" he said as he drank. "Still no food up on Moya… that will be a problem," he belched as his empty stomachs rumbled. "But… with Zhaan and the others gone… hmm… I suppose I can have the pick of their possessions?" He rubbed his fractional chin and smiled gleefully. "Yes… that would fine…"


	34. Chapter 34

Chapter 34

Crichton

They were dragged down a long tunnel, dimly lit by glowing patches of phosphorescent fungus or whatever, until they came to a much larger cavern that was so large that to John's human eyes it receded into invisibility. He'd once been in the Big Room at Carlsbad Caverns, which had a flattened Z-shape. This vast cavern was long, wide, and tall - all in a one huge room - and it was so tall the roof disappeared into darkness plus the far end was shrouded in mist. But unlike Carlsbad, here there were low buildings of stone and metal filling most of the floor, reminding John of the cliff houses of Mesa Verde. "Not much green down here," he muttered to himself, "only phosphorescent fungi."

"What's that John?" asked Aeryn.

"Nothing. It's a city or at least a small town," he told her.

D'Argo wrinkled his nose in discomfort. "Well whatever it is, there must be a frelling lot of those creatures for the smell is driving me fahrbot!" He sneezed for emphasis. "See?"

John rubbed his nose. "I can smell them too. And water?"

Aeryn pointed. "Over there."

John saw a narrow stream running down the center of the cave, feeding a pond. "There had to be water down here. I knew it."

Their guides pushed them along to that pond onto a plaza next to it. The pavers were scratched and worn by the mark of untold feet telling them this place was very old. The three friends found themselves hemmed in on all sides by hundreds of the furry creatures.

The odor was overpowering and soon John and Aeryn were coughing and gasping while D'Argo sneezed violently his tenkas flying with each explosion. "I must be allergic to them… achoo!"

That sneeze was so loud it made his guards jump as the sound echoed back from all directions.

Overseer Adnon, accompanied by more of the Lackos, climbed atop a platform, and looked over the crowd. "People of Morlamm!"

"I thought the whole planet was named Morlamm," whispered D'Argo.

"Our city is named Morlamm," said a guard, who was armed with a pulse pistol, drooping from his small paws.

"Hey!" hissed John. "That's Winona!"

"Winona? Who is Winona?" the creature asked in alarm.

"My gun. My damn gun and I want it back!" said John as he bent over and put his face down at the level of the guard. "My pulse pistol is named _WINONA_! And it's mine!"

"No need to get pushy about it," the thing told him. It raised the pistol towards his chest with trembling paws. "Now back off, prisoner!" it squeaked in a high voice and it was all John could do to keep from laughing.

Aeryn tugged on John's arm. "Crichton, leave it."

"Yeah, okay. But I'll be wanting it back."

The furry thing smiled at him, large incisors showing. "Back off, now!"

Aeryn tugged at him again. "Would you shut it?" she whispered. "Adnon is jabbering on. Maybe we'd better listen?"

John turned his back on the pushy guard, but could not resist looking back at the thing and making a rude gesture.

"Don't annoy the native, Crichton," D'Argo said softly into his ear. "He _is_ holding your pulse pistol."

"Yeah. Sure." Crichton found himself clenching his fists. Winona was the pistol that Aeryn picked up for him on the last commerce planet. She had stripped it down to its components and spent several days cleaning, inspecting, and test fitting until she had declared it fit for purpose.

That's when his lessons had started in earnest with the weapon. She drilled him on the care and feeding of the thing, finally letting him fire it in the Maintenance Bay. His first shots had been wild as the pistol was front end weighted and he tended to hit the target low and to the right.

Aeryn sneered at John as his shots had consistently hit the target below the waist and mostly near the knees. She was bending down sticking a finger into the hole where the target's left knee used to be. "Not bad, Crichton, if you're trying to burn his leg off."

Crichton rolled his eyes.

"But," she went on, "considering that all of your shots did hit the target…"

"You're saying I'm not that bad. That it?" he beamed.

"No. Because while you're blowing his leg to bits his arms are totally unmarked, meaning although he is certain to be in horrible pain as well as on the ground, he'd still be firing back at you."

"Ah, damn. Just once I'd hoped to get some encouragement!" he whined. "Thanks a lot Aeryn; a whole lot!"

Aeryn stood up and marched away.

He called after her. "Aeryn… I'm…"

She turned around and took out her pistol. "Crichton, come here."

He remembered sheepishly walking the length of the bay. "Yeah?"

"Come behind me."

"Okay."

"Put your head on my shoulder, right next to my face and your hands on my waist."

"Yeah?"

She'd looked hard at him. "Just do it."

In spite of his nervousness he did as directed. "Now," she went on, "stay focused. On the target. Raise your weapon, keeping your mind on the task in hand. Keep your arms braced and flexible; ready for what might happen. Be ready to respond to any action or reaction."

Weapon, okay, he thought and tried not to think of the feel of her bare midriff under his fingers, his cheek against hers, the feel of all that long hair against his ear… "On target, sure." Action, right. Her tush in those tight black leggings was right against his hip and part of his crotch and keeping his thoughts on the stupid target was just dumb; if not impossible! Because what he really wanted was to… he had gulped trying to stay in control of certain, ahem, physiologic things. Don't think of that! Think of his 1962 Chevy, his dad, or Earth, or his module, or _anything_ but the smell and feel of as well as his all too natural reaction to this woman.

"Ready?" she had asked. "Paying attention?"

"Oh yeah…" he drawled dreamily and tightened his grip on her slim waist.

She elbowed him in the gut, shrugged off his hands, then swung her face toward his and fired the pistol.

John had jumped a foot as the shot went down the bay. "Aeryn! God!"

Then she had holstered her pistol and walked away.

John stood there shaking his head at the performance for he saw that the target had a hole blown in the exact center of the cardboard head.

Aeryn elbowed him and he was brought back to the present as they stood as prisoners of a furry populace, in an underground city, deep under the surface of a hostile planet.

"People of Morlamm!" Adnan exhorted his people. "These creatures have entered our city without permission! They had desecrated the Shrine! One has been touched by the Guardian!"

His last words brought a real gasp from the crowd.

"So, fellow Lackosians, what shall we do with them?"

The murmuring of the crowd started to rise and the tone was not exactly friendly.

"I've got a bad feeling about this," muttered John.


	35. Chapter 35

Chapter 35

Aeryn

Bad feeling? Aeryn turned her head a fraction and gave Crichton a dirty look. Yes, he was right, for there was a _bad_ feeling in the air. But considering how frelled up her life had been since the docking web had snagged her Prowler, bad feeling did not exactly describe the last few monens more like half a cycle. Declared contaminated, losing her rank, position, even her sense of self was…

John coughed. "This is all so degrading," he whispered as he looked around the crowd at their captors.

"Yes," she replied, "degrading, and humiliating."

"If that's all this ends up being, we'll be very lucky. I've got a feeling this will end up being a lot worse than being painted green from head to toe. But it was a frat party after all and there was beer involved…" he coughed and his voice fell. "And then the cops showed up. Not exactly my best weekend memory."

"Frat party?" D'Argo probed.

"It's when a bunch of men live together at college and they throw a party. Frat means fraternity. DK and I are frat brothers."

"Well whatever you and DK do when you're together," D'Argo sniffed, "it's none of our business."

Aeryn rolled her eyes at D'Argo. DK was, John had told her, his closest Urp friend and was the controller of his Farscape project. "D'Argo! I don't think that's what John said; did you?"

"NO!" John blurted out but he stopped when he saw she was grinning at him. "Right…"

Adnon was further stirring up his people, calling their prisoners all sorts of nasty things, and most of the words he was using were not in John's Uncharted Territories vocabulary. "This guy must be running for office," John commented. "He sounds like a two-bit politician running in a tight race. Or like a backwoods work camp boss…" He looked around at the crowd and thought his second comment may be the right one for most of the Lackos standing about were dressed in tattered garments, their fur matted with grime, and they rocked from foot to foot in a slow dance of utter boredom. "Aeryn, look. Look around."

She did as he asked. "What? Just a bunch of natives."

"Look at their eyes."

Aeryn looked a second time taking a slightly longer time as she focused on stances, facial expressions, the way hands were held, shoulders slanted or not, the way long furry ears were tilted, and she felt her pulse beat faster as her vision got sharper - all senses on alert. "Yes…"

"See how they just don't give a damn?" John went on. "I bet things are not going well down here and Adnon is using us as a rallying point; all to keep the troops in line. He's giving them a common enemy - us. It's an old trick."

D'Argo shook his head, tenkas flapping. "You may be right, Crichton. Look at the way they're starting to give us looks from the corner of their eyes."

"And baring their teeth, as well," Aeryn said now with some alarm. "I wish I had my gun back."

John sighed. "Yeah, wait a minute!"

"What's that John?" Aeryn asked.

"When that thing was hauling me down that tunnel and when I really came to, my pulse pistol was gone. I had assumed that Winona was lost. So how did _that_ _guy_ get it?" he nodded at the diminutive guard.

D'Argo "So why did you decide to name your gun?"

John rolled his eyes. "Look - because she rides on my hip?"

"Huh?"

"Winona? Winona Ryder, the actress?" John stood there on this alien world and as he saw the confused look that D'Argo and Aeryn exchanged, he knew that he was really, _really_, far from home.

Aeryn Sun centered herself and brought her mind back to what she was seeing and she did not like it. "They are starting to get anxious." She now heard a murmur of rising voices, the soft rustle of shifting feet and saw the rise of faces, more teeth showing. "More than anxious."

Overseer Adnon was now screaming and yelling. "They are our enemies! They wish to destroy the Shrine! They are aliens! Out-worlders! And they DO NOT BELONG HERE!"

"They're sure as hell not cute little bunnies anymore, are they?" John whispered at her side. "We need a plan."

Aeryn looked up at his face. "You have a plan?"

"I said we _needed_ a plan, Aeryn."

D'Argo took a half step to their backs. "If we make a run for it, maybe one of us can escape."

"To where?" Aeryn asked. "To that furnace outside? I'd not last two hundred microts out in that heat," she sniffed. "And you'd not last much longer. And besides we don't know how to get out of this cave."

Crichton whirled to the side and squatted down in front of the guard who held his pistol. "Why don't you like us?"

The thing bared his teeth as he shakily held the pistol at a stubby arm's length. "You are… strangers."

John crouched down and lowered his voice. "Look here friend…"

"You're not my friend," it said.

"Okay. It's a big bad universe out there and without friends…" he looked up at Aeryn and D'Argo, "we're all just screwed when things go to hell."

"Like that's news?" The gun rose and pushed against his chest. "Back off you… you…"

"Human. I'm a human. Name's John Crichton." He turned and pointed to his companions. "Her name is Aeryn Sun and the big guy is Ka D'Argo." His attention swung back to the thing. "So what's yours?"

The furry thing stood a little straighter, pulled the gun's muzzle away from John's breastbone and whispered, "Pulta. Pulta Crackit. Third Level Mining Excavator, but I'm hoping to be promoted to Assistant Second Level soon."

John stuck out his hand. "Nice to meet you Pulta; call me John."

The thing warily shifted his paws on the pistol, then raised one and took John's. "Johhhnn," he drawled out. "And what are you?"

Aeryn heard John's whispered words. "Astronaut; a lost astronaut, just trying to get home."

_Home_, she thought. Just where is home to you Aeryn? No longer on a command carrier that was certain. Was it her Prowler parked in Moya's landing bay or the former prison cell across the tier from John Crichton's aboard the Leviathan? And what was home to John Crichton? Did he mean his planet or a dwelling somewhere on that place he called Urp, no Earth, she corrected herself? She felt John's hand reach out and taking hers gave it a tug so she bent down.

"Aeryn meet my new friend, Pulta Crackit," he said.

"I'm Officer Aeryn Sun," she said, it being an old habit that still died hard.

The thing's nose went into overtime sniffing. "Yes…" it said, "you are together?"

Aeryn gave John, who was grinning at her, a confused look. "No, we're not… ahem. Not really."

Pulta smiled and patted her hand. "Now, nice to meet you but…" he motioned with John's gun. "Back off."

She stood and pulled John upright. "Well that went well," she said sarcastically.

"You never know Aeryn; you never know." John waved to Pulta who winked back at them, still holding John's gun out timidly. "I think the little guy is plenty scared."

"Of us or of Adnon?" She nodded to the Overseer who was still haranguing his town folk.

John gave her a toothy grin, his eyes flashing. "Maybe we can change the equation?" Then he pushed his way through the crowd, sprang up on the rock next to Adnon and holding his hands out yelled, "Hello everybody! And how are you doing today? My name's John Crichton and I just want be friends! Capisce?"

D'Argo groaned. "There he goes again. Crazy human!"

Aeryn laughed. "Not as crazy as you might think," she answered then pushed through the crowd to join John.

**Notes:**

**Capisce = Italian word which means 'understand?' or 'got it?'**


	36. Chapter 36

Chapter 36

Crichton

Crichton stood, no towered, above the crowded muttering Lackos miners waving his arms like a demented tent preacher. "Listen!" he yelled as the small and furry creatures continued gabbling and whispering below his feet.

"Guards!" screamed Overseer Adnon knowing that it was all going wrong. "Seize him!" He stepped back to give his people a clear shot at this fahrbot giant alien but found himself backing into the other alien – the female – who had sprung up on Council Rock. He opened his mouth to scream again but two large slender hands, with no fur on them (oddest thing he thought) clamped themselves at the back of his head and his mouth. "HHMMmm… ggrrr…" was all that came out.

The tall female alien bent down and looked hard at him. "You be quiet now, or something bad might happen." Then her hands shifted back to his long ears as she squeezed them together and he whined in pain. "Silence!"

She was nearly whispering to him but Adnon heard the edged tone to her voice. He stared up at the giant female, over twice his height, and could not but help gulp in fear as she smiled down at him. The sight of so many exposed incisors put real terror into him. She even had canine teeth! He felt sweat break out and he could not help but start to shake. Were these things _carnivores_? The legends told of meat eaters hunting them on the home world, thousands of cycles ago. Were these thing some of those? He opened his mouth and seeing the feral look in her eyes he could only nod, and painfully at that.

Through pain hazed eyes he saw his people, the people of Morlamm, almost paralyzed by the sight of these two interlopers taking over _his_ meeting. At least the really tall thing with the tendrils on his bald head was held at bay by the armed guards. But at the same time, he could see the miners and their families were rather - what was the word – entranced at the scene. He had thought his people would rush to help him, but there they all stood, spellbound; enthralled by the scene. He started to yell, but the black-clad female tugged at his ears and gave him a shake that made all his joints rattle.

"Go on John, I don't think our little friend will be too much trouble," Aeryn said. Then she moved to John's side dragging the astonished and cowed Adnon with her. "So _this_ is your plan?"

John chuckled. "Yeah; no; sorta,"

"Well don't stop now for you _do_ have their attention. Good luck. We'll need all the luck we can get. And it had better work…"

"I know." Crichton sighed then grinned widely. "As I was saying: hi!" he yelled to the assembly and some even weakly echoed his word back. Most of the creatures below him stood like cowering bunnies. His second cousin had raised rabbits and that's just what they looked like when the neighbor's cat jumped over the fence and got too close to their cages. Their dark eyes were wide and staring, their long ears were pointed down behind their heads, their shoulders hunched, and feet poised to run.

"John!" yelled D'Argo. "These things keep jabbing me with shovels and guns!"

Crichton called back to him. "Hey!" Leave D'Argo alone! Stop poking him! He won't hurt you! Right D'Argo? Just say yes, and don't growl my friend."

D'Argo stopped flinging himself about and tried to smile. "I'm fine… fine… just… I'll stand right here and not move," he addressed his captors. "Right?"

John nodded his head. "That's a good idea," he said then realizing the extreme fright of the miners nearest him he sat down on the rock and folded his legs. "Maybe if I sit down and not make myself seem so dang tall? This better?"

"Ye..sss," squeaked one.

"Don't mean to be scary but I am tall. Now," he breathed, "let's have a talk."

Questions called out to him in squeaky and scared words. "HAVE YOU COME TO DESTROY US? WHO ARE YOU? WHY ARE YOU HERE? TALK ABOUT _WHAT_?"

John shook his head and waved his arms for silence, which he got. "I'll answer those. No, we have _not_ come to destroy _you_ or _anybody_. Who are we? Just some lost folk needin' some supplies; food mostly. And the last one - _talk_. Well what do you want to talk about? I answered your questions, how about you answering some of mine?"

More comments flew through the cavern in a thunderous babble. "Stop, stop! Calm down! Come on now." When he got mostly quiet he added, "Tell you what? Let's have Pulta Crackit come up here? Come on up, Pulta, old buddy!" He waved into the crowd and saw a small figure being thrust toward the tall boulder.

Astonished voices responded and in a few handfuls of microts the bedraggled Third Level Mining Excavator was being boosted up to the platform.

John sat there calmly while Pulta climbed up by him and as a third of the crowd laughed, but some cheered. Pulta stood a few feet away from John shaking in his boots, teeth chattering, the pulse pistol nearly dragging on the rock.

"CRACKIT! NO! Don't talk to these…" Adnon blurted out but Aeryn tugged on him and he shut up.

Aeryn bent down to him and putting a finger to her lips said, "_Shush_."

Adnon had never heard such a word before or seen a motion like that but he got the idea and closed his jaws tightly.

"Now," John started, "Just why have _we_ become public enemy number one? Why go all gangbusters on us like we're Al Capone?"

"Wha… what's that?" Pulta shivered out.

"Sorry. I mean…" John looked at Aeryn and saw she was just as perplexed. John, you have to stop all the _lingo_ he admonished himself under his breath. "Look if we disturbed you down here in your lovely caverns and mines we are sorry. We just came down here to trade for food. That's all. A big old bad storm dumped our spacecraft on its nose out in the desert. We were going to die because it's so hot out there, so we came underground. Aeryn was hurt in the crash…"

At that the bunnies' posture softened so John went on, "I guess you folks heard all the ruckus and carted Aeryn and D'Argo down here. I was outside and came inside to cool off and found them gone and all our stuff too! I was ready to look for them when something cracked me over the head. Boom! Lights out! And the next thing I know, something hairy and scary was dragging me along like a hunk of dead meat. I got away, and managed to make my way into your main caves. All a big mistake. See?"

Pulta considered the strange creature and what he'd just heard. Granted he had no fur, or nearly not enough, he was much too tall, and he had far too many teeth in his mouth, but so far he and his friends had not tried to hurt anyone. He thought what his sire used to say, "Never judge a libros by its cover." For sure this was one very strange libros. What would his sire say, his mate, or the others on his shift if he bungled this? All the Crackit's down the ages would be despised for making a mistake. What if these three were the vanguard of an advancing army? Or what if it was as Johhnnn said? They were only lost and hungry? Still he had the thing's gun… he lowered the pistol to the rock surface.

"I have known hunger," he answered to Johhnnn. "Hunger makes one do things that are…"

"Desperate," said the tall female. "We just wanted to trade for food."

Pulta measured the words. Were they truth bearing? The Underground was avoided by many travelers as it _was_ far from the port town, the desert was extremely hot and large, and arid as it could get. The mines were too far off the beaten path to be an invasion spot. He looked at Adnon who was easily cowed now by the female. She actually seemed to be enjoying holding the Overseer at bay. Hm… the Overseer… had been very insistent, perhaps too insistent, that these three were dangerous. Why? Why did Adnon fear these people?

Pulta felt the tension growing and considered the roll of a gaming piece. His favorite game of chance used a simple coin to decide things; black or white the sides of the disc were painted. He mentally flipped it. After a few microts more had passed he spoke up. "Yes. We have food. What do you have to trade?"


	37. Chapter 37

Chapter 37

Zhaan

Zhaan listened intently and repeated her comms call to Rygel while the sand storm raged outside the cave's mouth. Sighing in disappointment she stepped away from the opening and pried off her helmet. "Rygel's probably planning to the microt how long he'll wait!" she muttered. Coughing to clear the dust that seeped into the cave, she peered about and seeing boot prints on the floor felt encouraged. There were also many scuffed up footprints - not shoe prints - but _footprints_, that pointed from and to a small opening in the rear wall.

She dropped the backpack and storage bag to the floor and peeled out of the suit, although it was very hot in the small grotto. "I'll be better able to move more freely," she told herself then she bent down and inspected the low tunnel leading down and away.

A fusty and musty smell met her sensitive nose. "Something lives down there," she grunted, then crawled inside the opening. She turned on a light and followed the beam into the rock, very glad that the temperature dropped the further she crawled. When she had crawled and crouched along for nearly a thousand microts the tunnel grew larger, the slope decreased, and the floor changed from dusty sand to a mix of gravel and sand, which stabbed the palms of her hands and her knees with a million sharp points.

Finally she was able to stand nearly upright, but the pain moved from knees and hands and into the fibers of her back and neck. Just when she thought she could bear to creep along like a maimed zerphat no longer, the tunnel became taller and she emerged into a huge open space.

She tapped the comms unit pinned to her blouse. "Rygel?" She heard a snatch of his voice but then it faded. "I didn't think it would work down here anyway," she muttered.

Flashing the light around she took a step over broken rock and heard a voice.

"Down here?" The voice was guttural yet timid.

She turned towards the voice and her light illuminated a large broken boulder standing alone on the floor, much taller than any other. Something was crouched on the stone staring at her and when the light floated towards it the thing cried out in a pained voice, "NO!"

"Oh dear," she sighed and flicked the light away. "Have I hurt you?"

"No… not hurt," a tremulous voice said. "Scare."

"Now why am I scaring you, hmm? You can see I am unarmed."

"Light… light scare."

She turned the lamp to a dimmer setting and crouched down so she was shorter. Then she saw the being relax in the dimness. It had long arms and legs, and it perched on the stone like a scared yelknap, those little trouble makers from her home world. But this one was so much larger. It seemed to have huge eyes, which would explain the discomfort when the light hit it. "I have turned down my lamp. Is that better?"

"No need. Light… there." It stood up and stretched out a long arm in the dimness.

Zhaan looked up and saw the roof of the cavern glowed with liquid fire in a green glow. "Oh, yes." She put her lamp away, it's light now unneeded. "I can see."

The being on the boulder was tall, not quite as tall as she was, but it was muscular from the looks of the bulky arms and legs. The head was bulbous with a jutting jaw and long ears that stuck out almost comically. But there was nothing comical about the way its neck proudly propped up the large head. There was a challenge there and she sensed it was not quite afraid of her.

"And I see you," the being said.

Zhaan stood in a fluid movement and the thing rose higher, holding something gleaming in one furry hand. She bowed her head, put her palms together and made a slight bow to it. "I am Pa'u Zotah Zhaan. I am a Delvian."

The being relaxed. "I am… guardian… constable. I…" it paused and seemed to be searching for a word.

"Your name?"

"Name… word that means…" it struggled with the concept.

"What you call yourself, gentle being. My friends call me Zhaan. I am a healer."

"Healer?"

"Yes. I am able, sometimes, to mend broken bodies and fix minds."

The thing considered this for some microts then slid down from the boulder and from the way it moved, she could tell it was injured in a leg or foot. It limped a few motras forward then sat down heavily. "Mend… heal?" the great head shook. A large hand rubbed an area below a thick knee. "Can you fix?"

Zhaan crouched down and slowly moved forward. "You have hurt your leg."

The thing whimpered. "Not… I, other. Other one hurt me."

Zhaan sat down in front of the being and she could see a dark spot below the knee. "May I?" she reached out a blue hand with rings on every digit. She ignored the rank smell of the being, focusing on the injury and a way to calm this large and powerful thing.

It looked away as she peered at it. "I will not hurt you, gentle one."

"Yess… no," it said, seemingly confused.

She could see the poor creature was injured as well as scared. The leg was large, muscular and dirty but the skin below the left knee was bruised with a dark fluid leaking out of the fur. She patted her belt. "Now if I had water," she said and felt the empty belt clip where her water bottle should be, but was behind on the pod.

The thing pushed the object in its hand forward. "Water. Life."

The container as made of a stainless metal with a screw cap. She recognized it was one from the pod – the other pod. "Where did you get this?"

"Other… carried it."

She poured water onto the hurt place and the thing winced and made a low growl. "Nothing broken I think," she muttered. She tore her shirt for a bandage then bound the hurt spot. She handed back the bottle and the creature took it, and her hand brushed the strong fingers, holding them briefly. "My name is Zhaan and I asked for yours. Do you have a name?"

The thing rocked from side to side. "I…"

Zhaan waited patiently and finally the creature sat up straighter and with a look of almost awareness in its large eyes. "Father… name… wasss… Elrot. Mother… Tybarg."

Zhaan nodded and smiled and the being smiled back with large perfect teeth. "My…" a large hand scratched an ear. "Name…"

"Go on."

"Elrot-Tybarg… Lopzeck," it hissed and seemed amazed at the words.

"Ah, so Elrot-Tybarg Lopzeck," she repeated. "What are you doing down here?"

Lopzeck rocked back on it haunches then stood. "I… serve Shrine."

"Oh?" She smiled. "I serve the Goddess from my world."

"Goddess?"

"Those who watch over us. Protect us – care for us."

Lopzeck sat straighter for a moment, then stood and stretched out a hand. "Come?"

Zhaan took his hand and felt the great strength as he pulled her up. Large nostrils sucked in air and sniffed at her arm and face. "I shall. Yes, I shall come with you."

"Shrine…" Lopzeck smiled at her and now his eyes shine with a fierce intelligence. "Protect." He made a strange motion in the air with the other hand. "Shrine care… care for people."

"There are people here?"

A smile followed. "Many people. Many old. Some new."

"New people?"

Lopzeck took a limping step forward and Zhaan felt compelled to support it with a hand and shoulder. "Yess… new people. Some."

"And these people… the new ones?"

Lopzeck coughed. "New one… other, hurt me."

"Oh," Zhaan sighed. This might be _very_ bad. Considering her lost companions, which included an outcast Peacekeeper soldier, a large Luxan prone to hyper-rage, and a human with a wayward sense of adventure … she sighed for any of them might have hurt Lopzeck.

"Hurt… me…" the being hissed in pain.

"Was this new one… tall, dark, or thin?"

Lopzeck bared his teeth and roared. "Tall, not tall, light eyes. Bahh!"

Zhaan bit her lip. Light eyes could only mean it was John Crichton, who had the palest blue eyes she had ever seen. "Eyes… yes."


	38. Chapter 38

Chapter 38

D'Argo

D'Argo glanced down at the little frellnik that kept poking him with a sharp tool. "If you stick me one more time… I'll…

The little miner looked up with a mean grin. "You'll do what exactly? Ugly thing."

D'Argo bent over, grabbed the thing with a strong hand and lifted it high in the air as it squealed. "I could do this," he cocked his arm backward in an imitation of a baseball pitcher that Crichton had shown him, "or I could do this!" He sniffed. "Those stones over there look like a good landing spot. How high do you think you'll bounce?"

"Hey, D'Argo - KNOCK IT OFF!" Crichton yelled. "No, no! Bad dog! You keep that up and you'll get no chewy treats! Put him down!"

D'Argo sighed as he really felt hemmed in and frustrated and he really just wanted to smash something, he looked at the tiny miner in his hand who was now shaking and shivering, "Oh frell." He set the thing down and it darted away through the crowd, while its fellows made a tittering sound.

"Are you done terrorizing the natives, D'Argo?" Aeryn huffed at him. "We're trying to work a deal and you're down there frelling things up!" D'Argo heard her say to John. "Chewy treats? Crichton you are the most bizarre creature I have ever met."

"Best I can do on short notice, babe," Crichton answered. "Now," he addressed the miner's spokesman, "you think you can do something about letting my friend go? He really is harmless."

"Harmless?" D'Argo shouted back. "I have been in three battle campaigns, John! I can't believe you'd degrade me like that!"

Crichton laughed at him. "Hey, I'm a guy and that means I'm fickle, D'Argo! No, not true; just pulling your chain."

"Chain?" Aeryn said to John.

"I'm not chained, Crichton, and by the heavens I never will be again!" D'Argo flared up. "For too many cycles I was chained to the wall of a cell!"

"You were in a prison?" asked Pulta Crackit. "All of you?"

"Yeah," sighed John. "D'Argo come on up here."

D'Argo waded through the crowd and they parted like waters before him. He snarled a little under his breath but his glaring eyes was what made them scoot out of his way. Catching a glance from John he swung himself up on the boulder and sat down next to the human.

Pulta puffed himself up. "Humph, prisoners?" he asked fearfully.

"Yes," said Aeryn. "I was accused of being contaminated by my people."

"You?" He pointed at John.

"Yup. Wrong place at the wrong time."

Pulta sneered up at D'Argo who looked down his nose at the creature. "They chained you to a wall of your cell…"

D'Argo turned his head away and sighed, then pointed to the titanium rings protruding from his collar bones. "They used these."

The furry miner walked over to D'Argo and stared into his bearded face. He examined the puckered skin about the metal. "I can see scratches on the metal."

"I was unjustly accused of a heinous crime." D'Argo growled. "Then for eight cycles I was a prisoner…" he flung his head and barked, "but no more!"

Pulta turned to the crowd for a few seconds then stripped off his vest to a chorus of gasps and shouts.

"Oh my God," said John when he saw a mass of welts and burn scars down the little creature's back. In some places his fur was burned away in long puckered scars, and in others it was totally missing in a crisscross pattern. Most of his upper back was thus and from the depth of the injury it looked to be almost a miracle that he could move at all.

Pulta turned in a slow circle, arms extended, then he started to pull his vest back on, then with a will threw it to the ground and tread on it. "NO! Never again will I hide my scars!"

Aeryn closed her mouth and asked softly, "What, er…" she waved her hand but clamped it back onto Adnon as he struggled. "Stay still," she told him. "What happened?"

"I was caught under a mining laser. The cooling jacket failed just as a support strut fractured. Then I was beaten for slowing production." Pulta paused. "Strangely the burns hurt less than the flogging."

John shook his head sadly. "Who did this?"

Pulta turned to face the human. "Why do _you_ care?"

Crichton winced at the sight of his ruined back. "I don't want to see any one hurt is all."

"Crichton is…" Aeryn put a hand on his shoulder. "Concerned."

Pulta Crackit turned a slow circle once more, his arms extended. "We have _all_ been abused."

"Who?" D'Argo growled while his hands clenched into fists. "Who did this? Are more of you maimed in this way?"

The miner crossed his arms. "Who do you think?"

Many in the crown started to nod their heads and held out scarred appendages and exposed tormented bodies.

John stood up and reached over to take Adnon from Aeryn's grip. "You, grasshopper?"

"I'm no grasshopper!" Overseer Adnon yelled and tried to shrug him off.

"No? Well it seems to me that you have your own little work camp out here in the boonies. That it? Do you enjoy beating up people?"

"I've never beaten anyone in my life!" Adnon shouted. "People of Morlamm will you let this out-worlder lecture you? Help me!"

"No," hissed Pulta. He motioned to the crowd and several burly people rushed up and took Adnon from John's grasp. "Secure Overseer Adnon! We will no longer listen to his lies! You who live in luxury while we slave away! And we will deal with those who have helped to injure their fellows!"

Cheers erupted from many throats while some figures were seen to slink away furtively.

D'Argo smiled as the cavern was suddenly filled with happy and most definitely un-sullen people. "Crichton it would appear that you have engineered an uprising. If all revolutions were as peaceful, we'd not need weapons, just words."

The human shook his head. "I was just trying to figure the angle is all."

"Geometry? There was no talk about geometry!" Aeryn sneered. "I don't get it."

D'Argo smiled as John Crichton laughed hysterically.


	39. Chapter 39

Chapter 39

Pilot

"Zhaan? Rygel? Do you hear me?" Pilot stopped speaking after calling the pod for the thousandth time. He sighed as a DRD parked on the console bleeped at him. "What are you doing here?" he yelled at the device. "Why aren't you working on upgrading the antenna array? Bah!"

The yellow DRD scooted away, and if a robotic device could go stomping away that's exactly what it did.

Pilot shook his head sadly. "Another DRD that's been exposed to Commander Crichton too many times!" he yelled and struck at the console with his lower right arm.

Moya chuckled at him.

"No, Moya, I do not think it is humorous!" he hung his head. "I… apologize. I am…"

The low voice boomed across his den once more.

"Yes… frustrated."

Just then the comms transmitted a faint voice. "Pilot! That you?"

"Rygel?"

"Harrumph, yes, it is I, Dominar Rygel the Sixteenth! Baking my minocks off down here, I'll have you know! Just about to get takeoff from this rock!"

"You are well? When I lost contact with the pod during your decent, we feared the worst!"

"Yes, yes, Pilot. The frelling sandstorm ground more than a few atoms off the pod's exterior, I'm certain. Then that fahrbot blue bitch went out into the storm. Haven't heard from Zhaan for quite a while." He sighed. "And I'm still hungry…"

Pilot could hear a low grumble over the comms. "I am sorry about the short rations, Dominar. But that is the very reason that we stopped at this planet," he cleared his throat. "Has Zhaan located the other pod?"

"Oh yes, and it's been turned into scrap metal on a very large rock. Total destruction! That mad Luxan was probably flying; no other explanation!"

Pilot shook his head. "And the crew? Are they?"

"Don't know, Pilot. Zhaan made her way over there and poked around. It was empty."

"Where? Where have they gone?"

"Oh, I really don't know." Rygel coughed. "I lost comms with Zhaan. She headed towards a giant cliff. She's probably dead, for all I know."

"Dead? No! No! That can't be!" Pilot threw his massive head about and Moya burped her attitude thrusters in reply. "NO! I WILL NOT ACCEPT THIS!"

Several tiers below two DRDs bumped into each other in confusion as their command circuits received conflicting signals.

"Pilot, I didn't say she _was_ dead; I said I _did not_ know." Rygel stroked his whiskers.

"What?" Pilot screeched into the comms.

Rygel harrumphed. "She demanded that I use the short range scan and she headed to the cliffs as I directed her. The storm was still raging just then. It's died down quite a bit since then. I've no idea what she was planning on doing. Probably off communing with the Goddess of hers over the dead bodies of our companions." He struck a heroic pose. "They will not be forgotten Pilot. We shall honor them…"

Pilot let the deposed ruler natter on for several microts with his meaningless platitudes. The Hynerian could always be quite, _expressive_, when it came to such things.

"Rygel?" Pilot tried to interrupt.

"And when we reach Hyneria, and after I am reinstalled on my throne, I shall order that a fitting tribute to our fallen fellows is erected…" Rygel preened himself as he got up a good head of steam with his imaginings.

Pilot shook his head. "Rygel!"

"I see a giant pillar of polished green cristic stone. It shall be a full quarter of a metra tall, with a running frieze telling of their sacrifice! Triple-size statues of the lost heroes will be installed around the base…"

Pilot tried again. "Rygel!"

"And at the very summit, shall be a heroic statute of myself, my face in a sorrowful expression, showing the great depth of feeling that I had for our lost fellows! I shall order a full fifty days of mourning so that all of my 600 billion subjects know of the martyrs that we lost here today on this frelling dren of a planet!"

Pilot sucked in a huge lungful of air and also triggered an increase of the transmission power at the same time. "RYGEL! SHUT UP!"

Rygel dropped his hover-throne to the floor and trembled. "Pi..Pilot?" he said tremulously. He gulped and farted a blast of helium which he did every time he was afraid. "I…"

"You will stop this nonsense! ENOUGH! Get back on the comms and call Zhaan! Use the short range to see if she is still out there, or has found shelter! DO something USEFUL!"

Rygel gulped once more and his voice rose into a high register as the helium he had just expelled hit his vocal cords. "I… will! I will!"

"Do IT! And don't you _dare_ even think of leaving the planet until you get them all back! DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?"

Rygel quaked to his core. "Yes, Pilot. I'll get busy."

Pilot cocked his head. "And Moya tells me that the storm continues to abate. So don't think you can take half measures or Moya will be locking the pod access closed upon your return." He sighed. "I do apologize, Rygel, but Moya is most insistent on this."

Rygel shook free from the terror that had hit him. He breathed in short gasps through his mouth and nose slits, and the face of Selto Durka wavered in front of him. "Yes, Pilot. Tell Moya, I will do my best."

"Thank you, Rygel. Moya and I will be awaiting your comms telling us good news."

The comms went dead and Pilot found himself shaking. "I am sorry, Moya but Rygel sounded rather… hesitant to help."

Moya chuckled in his head.

"I know, Moya. He is not that… brave," Pilot muttered. "But we _must_ rely on him."

**Author's notes:**

**Selto Durka = Captain of the Peacekeeper command carrier **_**Zelbinion**_**, who regularly tortured Rygel while the deposed Dominar was held in the ship's prison.**


	40. Chapter 40

Chapter 40

Aeryn

Aeryn rubbed her hands together, trying to wipe the oily feel of Adnon's fur from them. John was crouched down talking to Pulta Crackit, the apparent new leader of these people. John was nodding, listening to Pulta, while other miners milled around, some throwing out comments and requests.

She sighed and watched as D'Argo rubbed his nose and tried, unsuccessfully, not to sneeze. "The smell is rich in here," he muttered after a nasal explosion.

"Yes," Aeryn sighed. "It reminds me… erh…" Her voice faltered.

"Of other furry little, ACHOO! Smelly creatures?" D'Argo sniffled and wiped at his nose.

"They weren't that… smelly… really."

"Who were they?"

"It was on Vulpak II."

"Vulpeds?"

Aeryn nodded. "I was a youngster."

"Isn't that where the Peacekeepers," he lowered his voice, "lost?"

"I believe the war is still going on. How did you hear about it?"

D'Argo smiled wryly. "People talk. Even on a prison ship."

Aeryn sighed. "It's a frelling mess there or so I heard. Not going that well."

D'Argo clamped his mouth shut. He didn't want to discuss Peacekeeper business here. The miners seemed leery of the idea that they might be connected to the hated race. He looked down at Aeryn's head and smiled at her.

"What are you smiling at Luxan?" Aeryn sneered back.

"I never thought I'd be able to have a civil conversation with a Peacekeeper," he whispered to her.

"Life can be surprising."

"I'll tell you what's surprising. Crichton was able to talk our way out of this dren." His voice fell further. "I really didn't expect much from him." He sniffed. "This smell is killing me." He sneezed.

Aeryn patted his elbow. "Crichton can be…" she shook her head.

He shook his head, tenkas flailing, which startled the miners who were still clustered tightly. "You two."

"What?"

D'Argo smiled but said nothing.

Aeryn looked away from the Luxan and then down at Crichton who was still listening to Pulta complain about the living conditions underground and the harsh treatment of the overseer. Crichton was so rapt that she and the cavern around them might as well not exist. "Crichton can be… interesting."

D'Argo laughed.

"Yeah," Aeryn heard herself say and felt blood rush to her face.

D'Argo bent down and looked at her face closely. "I thought so."

"Thought what?"

"Nothing." He crossed his arms. "John, ask about the food."

"Sure," the human said.

D'Argo pulled Aeryn aside and put his mouth by her ear. "You remind me of someone I knew once."

"Hm. Who?"

"Doesn't matter."

"General Ka D'Argo - a mystery."

"You have no idea, Aeryn. Don't pry."

"I wasn't prying. Only asking."

The Luxan straightened then lowered his mouth back to her ear. "I could ask about you and Crichton, but I won't."

"None of your business."

"Right," he said in his deep gravelly voice.

Aeryn sighed as D'Argo stood taller and crossed his arms. "Sure." She turned her attention back to the human who was nodding his head. She took two steps and knelt down by him and smelled his familiar warm and musky smell. She had once commented about it and he complained that there was no _Right Guard_ on Moya, whatever that was. "Making any progress?"

"Yeah," John said. "I notice that a lot of you have ragged clothing."

Pulta tugged at the ragged trousers he was wearing. "True. Adnon didn't provide much in the way of goods. There is a store, but… it's mostly empty."

D'Argo butted in. "John, Moya has some cloth."

"How much?" Pulta asked. "As you can see there are many of us."

"We'll see what we can do," John told him. "But there is one problem."

"Our pod is frelled," said Aeryn.

"Still waiting for rescue," John said, scratching his neck. "Still trying to get home."

"Back to Moya," D'Argo said.

John cranked his head and caught the distressed look that Aeryn gave him. "Home sort of depends on what you mean by the word."

Aeryn Sun, former Peacekeeper pilot and soldier, declared irreversibly contaminated by Captain Bialar Crais, wondered where her home was. She had heard the regret in Crichton's voice and tried not to react, but once more felt herself flush. She shook her head in an attempt to make the feeling go away.

"Sorry Aeryn," said John. ""Didn't mean to make you, well, you know."

She didn't trust herself to speak so looked away.


	41. Chapter 41

Chapter 41

Crichton

John saw Aeryn quickly look away, who then stood and backed away a step. "John, I… want to say…"

Pulta tugged on John's sleeve. "You said you came here to trade for food."

"Can you just give me a minute?" John told the creature who was now listening to another of his fellows, the bedraggled female who had been sniffing all of the prisoners.

Pulta held up a hand in John's face. "A few microts then." His head bent down and began a hurried conference with the other one.

So Crichton stood up and making a slow turn looked around the cavern. He saw the low buildings, piles of rock and ore, and construction vehicles, all lit by the greenish glow of the glowing rock walls and ceiling. But his attention was drawn to two distinct things – the stream and Officer Aeryn Sun, who looked downcast. So he sauntered over to her, thumbs hooked over his belt. "Ma'am. Haven't seen your kind 'round these here parts," he drawled.

Aeryn rolled eyes at him. "You do know that when you speak like that no one understands a thing you say?"

John nodded. "Well it seemed appropriate. How's your head? I guess you got a hell of a knock."

"My head is fine," she said, ignoring the pounding headache behind her eyes, which she attributed to hunger. She pulled John another step away from the miners and spoke quietly. "It appears that through your use of Earth customs, you just might have got us out of this jelly."

"Jelly?" He laughed. "Oh, you mean _jam_. Jelly isn't jam, jam is thicker with fruit skins in it and jelly is…" he paused when she gave him a confused look, "runnier."

She sighed as she often did when speaking to Crichton; frustrating as he was. "Regardless of the viscosity, your negotiating skills seem to have borne fruit."

They watched as the massed miners in the crowd started to filter away to buildings and such.

"Yeah," sighed Crichton, "show's over, nothing to see here. Move along." He turned his attention back to her. "Listen," he said softly, "when this is all over, where will you go?"

"Back to Moya of course."

"No, I mean, when… I guess you can't go back to being a Peacekeeper." He touched her shoulder briefly and squeezed it. "When I find Earth…"

Aeryn flared up at him. "You really think in the whole frelling Universe you'll be able to find your lost home world? You are fahrbot!"

"I might be," he whispered, "but I was thinking, more like wondering, if you might, uhm…" He had been thinking of asking her, but this was a lousy time and place; but his timing was always bad.

"What?" Aeryn cocked her head and her mouth fell open. "What are you saying?"

"If you'd like to come along."

She scoffed. "To Urp?"

He shook his head in exasperation. How many times would he have to correct her? "Earth, Aeryn, it's called Earth. But, yeah, back to my world… with me."

"Crichton, you are mad! You must be!"

Crichton smiled and Aeryn felt a piece of her heart crack when she saw the display. He had smiled thus in an artificial bedroom back on the fake Earth – the one the Ancients had built from John's memories. He had been nervous, which she found strange as Peacekeepers were never nervous about recreating. It was just a normal release of mental and physiological energy. She had told him the same, that her culture _did it_ for release, not for pleasure.

"You mean, you don't… make love? That's a shame," he had said sadly.

"Strictly biological, Crichton," she said as she ran a hand over his bare backside. "Strictly…"

"Sure," he murmured as his lips started kissing her neck and going lower, which took her breath away, making her back arch, legs wrap about his, her strong arms pulling him closer…

"Aeryn? Hello? You in there?" D'Argo asked her, snapping her back to the moment. He waved his thing fingers in front of her face. "Are you alright? How's your head? You may have suffered brain damage in the crash."

She had to look down at her feet and seeing her boots, that sight pulled her back into the present. "I'm fine," she said quickly, pressing her lips tight. "Do you think I could have some water?" She coughed. "Dust."

D'Argo had asked the right question – was she in there? No, not really, for the person she used to be, a decorated and valued pilot for Peacekeeper Command, had been ruined – destroyed by the man she stood next to – John Crichton, Urp-man, and Astronaut. The man she had recreated with once, only once, but maybe that strange Urp drink called _beer_ he gave her had something to do with it. But the recreation with him was _more_; more than she wished to remember or to re-experience through memories, for it made her think of another man. One who was long gone and dead – dead because of his love for her.

One of the miners handed up a bottle of water, which they shared. "Thank you," Aeryn told the creature, who stood at the foot of the large rock humbly.

The she-miner bowed her head. "You helped to rid us of Adnon. He was a bad person. Very bad."

"Sometimes we get the leaders we allow ourselves to have." D'Argo sniffed. He drank from the bottle. "Good water. Where is it from?" He gave the bottle to Crichton who drank.

"The stream," the she-miner quaked as the Luxan towered over her, for she barely would come up to his waist if they were on standing even ground. This tall orange skinned thing looked down at her then crouched down.

"Sorry I look so scary," D'Argo said to her. "I must be the stuff of nightmares."

"No," the miner told him. "You are _unusual_. What is scary is what lives at the Shrine."

"And what's that?" asked Crichton.

"It… it… guards the Shrine," the miner said in her squeaky voice. "No one goes there."

D'Argo bent lower. "This Shrine, I keep hearing you mention? What is it? Religious temple?"

"No…" the miner shuffled her feet and then made a curious hand gesture before her face, "the Shrine is the giver of life. You drink of it."

Aeryn was holding the water container and stopped with it at her lips. "We drink of it?" She eyed the bottle suspiciously. "This?"

"Yes. She who is Giver of Life. We drink of Her. She lives in the Shrine." The miner bowed slowly. "Her name is Theclassa; she who flows so the Morlamm may drink."

Aeryn lowered the bottle. "Suddenly I'm not quite as thirsty."


	42. Chapter 42

Chapter 42

Rygel

Despite the initial burst of energy that filled him, it had turned into fear as the enormity of what Pilot had told he _must_ do. Now he was despondent that anything could be accomplished. True the storm outside was slowing and occasionally he could get a glimpse of the ground outside, the wrecked pod titled at an angle, and even the dark mass of the cliff face where Zhaan had disappeared. This rescue must be hopeless; wasn't it? The grim surroundings matched his mood and fear and he sighed deeply.

His stomach rumbled loudly and he vented helium. "Hezmana!" he said in a squeaky voice as he nudged the short range scan controls. "Totally and completely jumfrotted, the whole of them! A stupid idea from start to finish. It makes as much sense as a frelling sand swimmer that wants to fly!" He beat a tiny fist on the panel and the scanner came to life. "Well, since it's working, I might as well… have a look."

He bent his stubby neck forward and tried to interpret what he was seeing. "Those must be the rocks that Zhaan went into. Humph! She's probably lying dead in there like a parboiled frillet! I don't care what Pilot says! If they're dead, they're dead and that's that! He and Moya will just have to let me back inside when I come home. Then we can forget about this frelling planet and make our way to Hyneria! Yes, a fine idea. That's what I'll do!"

Rygel preened his whiskers. "That will be so, so sweet when I get my hands on dear cousin Bishan! I'll… I'll…" His voice dropped. "You'll do just what, you fool? You'll be all by yourself at the palace gates with Pilot and Moya in orbit? You'll need an army to pry Bishan out of there! That tralk will have the entire fleet blockading the planet! But the people, all your loyal subjects, will welcome you back; oh yes, they will, or else!"

He sighed and turned his hovering throne in slow a circle. He squinted hard at the faded and scruffy interior of Moya's pod. "Frell! You fool! You are frelling _fahrbot_ if you think that's the case! You've been out of power for over a hundred cycles…" he muttered "and now you're down to this." In defeat he guided his chair back to the panel.

"Damn," he said echoing a word that Crichton used from time to time. He wasn't quite sure what it meant but he got the general idea. "So be it," he said sadly. "Alright. Back to work. Might as well make the attempt." His voice lacked all conviction and he felt light headed from a lack of food.

The scan showed just what he had seen before, a jumbled rock pile, the pod off to the side, and a cliff; a cliff with an aperture indicated. "That didn't show up before." He pushed his slit eyes closer to the panel. "Do you suppose that blue bitch went in there?" He floated to the controls, activated the lifters and the pod rose a few motras. "Now… _Dominar_… let's investigate. Be the leader that you keep telling everyone are!"

The pod drifted slightly in the cross winds, but in a strange twist, the winds dropped and the air cleared. "Hmmm; that _is_ a cave. Looks fairly new." He found a flat spot next to the rocks and set the craft down. Floating to the airlock he grimly inspected the outside temperature reading. His bullet shaped head shook as he inspected the number. "Rygel this is _madness_, you know that don't you?"

No one answered, of course, so he drew an insulating gold blanket about himself, secured it with an elastic sash and opened the hatch. He slowly floated inside the small chamber and after a few hesitant tries activated the panel which closed the panel. He gulped and started to hyperventilate as the opening narrowed until with a snick it disappeared as the hatch latched.

Then he drew himself straighter on the hover-chair as he said a prayer to the Three-Headed God; the ancient God of the Hynerians that embodied all aspects of bravery, wisdom, and courage. "Mighty Trezgot! Protect me, please! I have an empire to take back after this is all over!"

"Alright," he said to himself, "now open the frelling hatch and get out there, you craven tralk." His trembling digit pressed a control stud and the outer hatch swung open helped by a gust of superhot air. "Hezmana! It's so hot… so frelling HOT!"

Immediately he felt like he was on fire as his whiskers and brow hairs begin to singe. "I can't… can't…" he wheezed as the burning air scorched his nose, throat and lungs. He pulled the blanket further over his head and took small sips of the dusty air. "Must… must… do this!" His hand flipped the chair propulsors control and then he shot out of the pod at great speed. He wavered about for a good twenty-five motras, blown by the gusting air, dodged a boulder or two, and then shot straight into the dark cave. He fetched up against the rear wall, and huddled under the blanket trying to draw a breath.

"That… frelling, Pilot! I said I couldn't do this! I… Just can't!" He flipped his chair about aiming for the opening and the refuge of the transport pod, when a wall of sand and dust blew in upon the cliff and the cave was nearly filled with the stinging grit. "Now, I really can't breathe!"

The air blew him about for a few circuits of the small cave, and on one of those orbits, saw another opening, small, dark, and down low.

"Frell!" he screamed and aimed himself at the tiny opening.


	43. Chapter 43

Chapter 43

Zhaan

Zhaan eased the limping Lopzeck into a large chamber, where he slumped down on a rock and moaned. Zhaan could hear a trickle of water nearby, the sound echoed around the walls in a soothing tinkle.

"You are in pain," stated Zhaan as she stared at the being with concerned eyes. She hated to see any creature suffer so she crouched down inspected his leg. "This is seeping," she said tightening the bandage.

The over-muscled being looked at her with dumb eyes as Zhaan poked at his injured leg. A furry hand hesitantly touched her ear. "Blue."

"Yes," she nodded. "All Delvians are blue."

Lopzeck started to growl, a low warbling noise that raised Zhaan's blood pressure and she leaned away from the injured thing. The noise coming from his mouth grew louder and louder and Zhaan was almost ready to bolt, when the thing's vocal utterance became a gigantic laugh, the sound echoing off the walls.

"Blue! Blue! BLUE!" Lopzeck chortled and snickered while touching her face. "BLUE!"

Zhaan smiled sweetly and touched his large hand in return. "I am glad that you find that amusing. Most races find us pleasant to look upon."

He stared down at her then slapped his thighs. "You are… nice. Nice person."

"Thank you Lopzeck. It is part of my being to assist those who are in need."

His large dark eyes peered into hers and she felt calm start to fill her. A warm burbling sensation flowed from her toes, up ankles and into her legs. "What… are you…?"

"Shhh," Lopzeck said. "Feel… anger… fear."

"Yessss," she hissed as his voice flowed over her mind while the warm sensation filled her body. Zhaan felt her body start to float away and she blinked. Colored lights floated in her vision, but some part of her mind knew it was an illusion. Faces floated past her sight and she saw Crichton, Ka D'Argo, Aeryn, even Rygel.

Lopzeck's hands squeezed hers. "You fear for these people."

The image of Pilot and the expanse of Moya floated across her mind. "They are my friends."

The furry thing sat before her and she felt a soothing rush which now filled her from head to toe.

"You will… find… they… are safe," Lopzeck said with a firm voice. The way the words came out left her no doubt this was true.

Other faces now filled her vision, now. Family, friends, teachers, and one other - _Bitaal_. No, not him! She shouted silently as the face of her dead lover got clearer and clearer and Zhaan began to fight against the warmth, calm, and feeling of peace emanating from the creature.

Lopzeck's strong fingers slackened and released hers. "You are… troubled. Tired. Burdened."

Like popping a bubble warmth and dread evaporated and the dusty air, cold walls, and gravel under her knees reasserted their proper places in her senses. Zhaan might have fallen flat to the dirt, but strong arms now held her firmly. Disoriented she shook her head and slowly regained normal control. When she could clearly see the dark eyes of her companion were now filled with more a sense of intelligence and compassion then she had seen before.

"Trouble," he repeated. "Old trouble."

Zhaan could not speak as her breath was shortened and her throat dry. "May I have some water?"

Lopzeck smiled his toothy smile and hefted the water container. "I have water. But come!" He stood awkwardly and pulled Zhaan to her feet. "Better… there," he pointed to another opening in the rough walls. "Come!" He tugged her along into it.

Pa'u Zotah Zhaan ducked into another room, and was overwhelmed by the sound and smell of flowing fresh water.

Her new friend knelt by a rushing spring, which emerged with a rush from a burbling hole in the wall. The liquid gold, for gold it was on a desert planet such as this, had cut down into the living rock of the cavern floor and rushed off into the darkness.

"See! See! Theclassa provides!" He raised his arms and bowing three times raised hands cupped with the liquid. "The Shrine of Theclassa! Life! Zhaan! Drink of Her!"

Zhaan swallowed the offering and it felt like fine nectar as it coursed down her parched throat.


	44. Chapter 44

Chapter 44

Aeryn

Aeryn stood next to John and felt the world swim around her. As she started to fall, she grabbed his arm to steady her.

"You okay?" he asked in a concerned voice.

"Fine," she told him but then the world got very wavy and started to fade away. "_No_… Crichton, I'm… not…" she managed to blurt out as things went black.

"D'Argo!" Crichton shouted for help. "Aeryn; she's…"

The Luxan jumped to John's side and picked up the prostate woman with his strong arms. "Got her. We need to lay her down."

"Here, here," squeaked Pulta Crackit, who stood nearby with the shabby looking and droop-eared person by him.

The bedraggled Morlamm sniffed Aeryn all over after D'Argo laid her down and then touched her flushed face and forehead with a withered paw. "This one is exhausted and hungry."

"You're a healer?" John asked her.

"My name is Hemach Ulrohp," she nodded her furry head. "Now shush." Her nose wrinkled more and she turned and sniffed along Crichton's hand and arm, ending at his neck. "You have mated," she said factually.

John stammered back at her. "We… only… did it once… for heaven's sake!" while D'Argo sniggered.

"Never thought you'd end up with the enemy, did you Crichton?" scoffed D'Argo, and gave John a very grim stare.

"D'Argo! She is NOT the enemy!" hissed John back. "That madman Crais started all this!"

Aeryn had heard all this and managed to murmur, "Captain Bialar Crais."

"Thank God, Aeryn!" John peeled back and eyelid and saw a gray eye peering up at him. "You're okay! Does your head hurt? Must have been that knock on the head."

Aeryn tried to raise her head but the old Morlamm pushed it back down. "Stay, child. You need rest and food." She cast a rheumy eyed look at Pulta. "You are our new leader it seems, do something. Act like you are in charge," she muttered.

"Ahm, of course," Pulta said uncertainly. "We must get you food and drink. Have her taken to Adnon's chamber – best we have down here."

D'Argo swept the Peacekeeper up and settled her against his broad chest. "It seems I am a beast of burden this day."

Aeryn looked up at him slightly startled. "Sorry…" she squirmed, but his arms held her firmly.

"I'll not drop you."

"Not why I was squirming," she told him. She had known the Luxan for monens but this was the closest she had ever been to the warrior. His body temperature was higher than a Sebacean, she could tell, and he had a musky odor about him that seemed to be centered in his beard, which was pressed against her chest and neck. "It's just... your beard tickles."

D'Argo burst out laughing. "A Peacekeeper is tickled! You have a sense of humor!"

"We're not all grim battle robots you know."

D'Argo held her close as Crichton trotted along beside. "I've noticed," D'Argo answered.

Morlamm miners pushed and urged D'Argo towards the largest housing block, erected of prefab panels and stone. He had to duck his head to get through the squat door.

"There! Put her there!" the Morlamm healer pointed at a soft couch, which looked large enough for D'Argo to use.

Crichton crawled through the door and whistled at the posh surroundings. The walls were painted in pastels, bright colors covered the couch and a chair, the floor was resilient and warm to the touch, and a large view screen dominated one wall. "Pretty nice joint," he turned around. "Seems like boss-man wanted for nothing." He crossed the room and walked into an L-shaped alcove where he opened a very normal looking door. Cold air spilled out from around bottles and cans. "That little bastard has a refrigerator?" He took out two tall bottles and took them to the little healer. "Anything useful?"

Hemach bowed her head. "Oh… nectar essence," she pried off the cap with strong fingers and smelled the top. "Perfect. It's been cycles." Propping Aeryn up on the silky sheets with a large cushion, she started to give her sips from the bottle.

D'Argo prowled around the room, then sensing nothing harmful relaxed slightly. "John?"

John was crouching by Aeryn's side, holding one of her limp hands. "What D'Argo?"

"Over here," the Luxan said, waving.

Crichton rose and found Aeryn gripping his hand. He looked down and found her almost smiling up at him.

"You came looking for me, uhm, us," she said.

"Of course," he said softly. "Why wouldn't I?"

"Shoo, shoo!" Hemach told him. "Rest she needs."

Crichton pried Aeryn's hand away and pointed over his shoulder with his thumb. "I'll just be…"

Aeryn nodded. "With D'Argo."

Crichton walked away slowly and Aeryn felt… what was the feeling… alone? No, more than that, _temporarily_ alone. Her friends were who knew how many light cycles away in Peacekeeper Territory, a place she could no longer go, without facing arrest, imprisonment, trial, and death. But those deemed irreversibly contaminated, such as she, could expect no less from Peacekeeper Command.

She watched contentedly as Crichton and D'Argo started a quiet conversation, while the healer fed her sips of the delicious liquid.


	45. Chapter 45

Chapter 45

D'Argo

"What do you think?" whispered D'Argo to Crichton.

The human rubbed his nose and frowned. "She seems to be doing a little better."

"I'll feel better when Zhaan can look her over. That crazy Delvian could heal Rygel of being a Hynerian."

"That would be quite a trick," sighed Crichton. "Speaking of Zhaan, how are we going to get off this rock? The pod is kaput."

D'Argo nodded slowly. "You think these," he paused as a couple of the Morlamms sidled through the door, "_people_ will let us go?"

"We haven't hurt them and it seems they want to trade." John smiled at Pulta as the miner's new leader came to his elbow, and in fact barely as high as his elbow.

"We were discussing trading," Crackit said, his large eyes blinking rapidly.

D'Argo nodded and bent down on one knee to face the creature eye to eye. "I believe that we have cloth aboard our ship."

Pulta nodded back. "Our scouts report the dust storm is slowing and that there is another ship outside the opening you blasted in the cliff."

"Another ship?" exclaimed Crichton.

Pulta blinked. "That's what I said. It is just like the other, only not damaged."

D'Argo and Crichton exchanged looks. "Zhaan," excalimed the Luxan.

"Must be. Did they see anyone else; say a large blue woman, about as tall as me?" asked John.

"Blue? You joke," Pulta laughed along with his companion. "No one is blue!"

D'Argo rolled his eyes in merriment. "Our friend _is_ blue. She is called Pa'u Zotah Zhaan. Have you seen her? She is most likely searching for us."

Pulta rocked his head from side to side. "No… no one like that. But they did see something else. It is small and floats. The scouts were frightened and ran away."

"Rygel," John and D'Argo said together.

"Another friend?" Pulta looked sideways at human and Luxan. "You have _many_ strange friends."

D'Argo thought a moment about that comment. It _was_ true for he now had many new friends, including a defamed Peacekeeper, a blue healer, a Hynerian Dominar, a Leviathan and her joined Pilot, and this strange biped next to him, who in some odd way thought much as he did. He gravely inspected the human by his side. "They are both stranger than you imagine and stranger than you can imagine."

"Haldane, 1927," muttered Crichton.

"This Haldane is a theologian? A great philosopher?" asked D'Argo.

"Biologist - geneticist - liked beetles," John muttered.

"Beetles?" inquired Pulta.

John spoke up. "Small, shelled creatures, they crawl along forest floors and…" Crichton slowed as he saw the confused look of his listeners. "They eat decayed material…"

D'Argo looked at Pulta who returned a knowing look. "See?"

Pulta conferred briefly with his companion then addressed the healer. "Hemach?"

"The female is sleeping. I think they all need a good meal." The bent crone came to the corner and lowered her voice. "It has been an exciting day; deposing a ruler, invaded by aliens…" she looked up nervously at the Luxan and human, "of a semi-agreeable nature." She bared her large yellow teeth in an appalling smile and sniffed the air. "Fatigue, I can sense it. You are also tired."

"Been a hell of a day," laughed John.

She took Crichton's hand in hers and examined it. "You are so like the other – your mate – but not quite the same."

"She's _not_ my mate; really she's not!" he protested both to Hemach and D'Argo, who laughed.

"You protest too much," commented D'Argo.

John wagged his head wearily. "Now you're quoting Shakespeare – Hamlet."

D'Argo rolled his eyes. "Babe Ruth, John Wayne and now Shakespeare Hamlet! You have a lot of heroes, Crichton!"

"Oh, just never mind," sighed John. "I'll explain later."

D'Argo wrinkled his nose and frowned. "We _are_ aliens," he said to Pulta and Hemach. "Some are more alien than others."

Crichton started laughing, turned away and rested his head against the wall. "_I'm _the alien. Right. Whatever."

D'Argo mouthed the words _he is_ to the Morlamms who gave each other an odd look and blinked rapidly.

Pulta cleared his throat. "Yesss… we shall feed you then. But about these others?"

John spoke. "If you find them, treat them well. Zhaan is very wise and Rygel is…"

"Gruff, rude, self-centered," coughed D'Argo. "He is rather…"

"Just find them, please?" asked John.

Hemach and Pulta bowed low. "We shall treat them well," said Hemach, who nudged Pulta.

"Yes," Pulta replied a bit uncertainly. "I think you deserve a feast." He sniffed. "We should be able to do that much for you."

**Author's notes:**

**J.B.S. Haldane = 1892 - 1964, a 20****th**** century British scientist, known for investigating aspects of genetic inheritance. Also studied why insects are small, due to their lack of circulatory systems.**


	46. Chapter 46

Chapter 46

Crichton

John Crichton sighed as he washed down a mouthful of the Portobello-like patty he had been served.

Aeryn nudged him. "Don't like it? 'Cause if you don't," she made a swipe at his plate but he blocked her hand.

"Tasty, but I'm tired," he mumbled. He yawned. "I wonder how we'll get out of here? And where are Zhaan and Rygel?"

Aeryn pointed towards D'Argo who was laughing and swapping stories with their host, Pulta Crackit. "They'll show up. Looks like D'Argo and Pulta are hitting it off."

John nodded. "We need friends, you know."

Aeryn nodded. "Unlikely sorts, though."

Crichton scanned the room and the strange creatures all eating together. The visitors were seated with six of the little creatures, all tucking into the sumptious meal like they had not eaten in quite a while. "I never imagined any of this."

Aeryn almost laughed. "Who would? These little ones remind me of the Vulpeds. About the same size, but a bit shorter. Lived in a jungle."

"Oh?" John asked but was distracted by the commotion caused by a certain Luxan warrior.

D'Argo had just backslapped the little Morlamm who had almost been launched across the room. Crichton had caught bits of the tale the Luxan was telling - something about a feud that had turned into a full-fledged battle.

The punch line was shouted out. "And then they found out they were all related! No wonder they were fighting!" followed by ear-splitting laughter.

The dining chamber of Adnon's house was large and comfortable. Dinner had been lavish and long, and John felt his head drooping while his mind seemed to be sharp edged. The odd feeling made him yawn and feel spritely all at once. He put the mixture of sensations down to hunger and fatigue, yet his stomach was now full.

Aeryn chewed another morsel of a tough bread roll. "This stuff…" she tapped it on the stone table top they were all gathered around, "you could use it as charges to knock down Prowlers."

"Thinking of arming Moya?" John chuckled softly.

"No. Just," she tapped the roll on the table once more. "Clunk, clunk." She nibbled on a corner. "Nice taste though."

John poked at the undefinable vegetables, or whatever, on his trencher, and laid his twin-tined fork down. "Not sure I can eat any more." He yawned and tapped his stomach. He leant back on the short stool and draped his hand on Aeryn's back. "We need to talk."

She lowered her head. "Yes?" Unlike her usual grim way, she smiled at John while she admired his brown hair and pale blue eyes. Her right hand brushed along his muscular thigh from knee to waist and she felt herself smile wider. "But… that's not right," she muttered while her fingers rose and touched his beltline, poking inside the waistband, as far as his underwear.

John dipped his head to her ear and breathed deeply of her hair and her skin; her warmth, her person. "Aeryn, about what I said earlier. About home, I am sorry. _What's_ not right?" He shook his head which suddenly seemed to be even more scrambled. He felt like he'd been spun up to about thirty revolutions per minute, dumped on his head, and had chugged about four beers.

"I…" Aeryn's hand withdrew and she tucked it down between her knees, but some force tried to make it return to his leg, or his waistband, or run slowly down his back from neck to bum. Her breath came deeper and her heart sped up. "John… something's… not right." Her throat felt dry while she panted.

John's lips had now descended towards her neck and they stopped millimeters away from the warm hollow. "Aeryn," he inhaled heavily, "can we, uhm… uhm…" he licked his lips. "Talk… about…" his head swam and he felt quite warm. He wanted to sweep Aeryn into his arms and kiss her without stopping. He glanced across the table at D'Argo who was giving him an odd stare. Well, never mind _him_, he thought, as his full attention returned to the black clad woman.

The Peacekeeper pilot raised her shoulder to let John touch lips to her flesh and she shuddered. "John, this…" she gasped in desire, "_this_…" her right hand shot out and grabbed John's crotch, her entire body taunt as a bowstring.

"Whoa! Whoa!" Joe hissed and _tried_ to push her away yet still grabbed her fingers and began to stroke them. "What in the?" He looked at Aeryn who was blushing away under her pale skin. The pupils of her gray eyes were huge and were fixed on his face. "Aeryn, what-in-the hell are we doing?"

"I told you this isn't right!" shouted Aeryn just before she kissed Crichton full on the lips.

His reaction was to throw his arms about her and in a heavy clinch push her backwards off her seat and onto the floor where his body tried to burrow into hers. All the while his brain unbelievably resisted, and he shouted "No! Stop it!" but the smell of her body drove him mad!


	47. Chapter 47

Chapter 47

D'Argo

D'Argo looked down at John and Aeryn who he'd literally pried apart. They sprawled on the floor like minkas in heat, which is exactly how they both had been acting. He grinned down at the dour Peacekeeper, former Peacekeeper he corrected himself, who was blinking her eyes, with her tongue licking her lips, eyes rolling.

On his other side, Crichton was trying to crawl across the rock floor, moaning words of negativity while his hands scrabbled at the floor, pulling himself back to Aeryn. "Aeryn! I'm… sorry… my God!" the man mumbled. But as his hand brushed against Aeryn's boot, fingers took hold of her ankle and his arm muscles bunching literally launched himself up onto her leg. His voice rose in pitch protesting, while his body betrayed his mind. "D'Argo! Help me!"

Meanwhile Aeryn shuddered and reaching across John's shoulder grabbed his shirt in bunched fists and dragged him forward. "Crichton! I… can't… stop…" When she pulled his head up to her waist she involuntarily bent down and smothered his head with kisses.

D'Argo could see that whatever was doing this was quite beyond their control. Once more he tried to pull the two apart while Pulta grabbed Crichton's foot and assisted.

Hemach the healer grabbed two goblets off the table and dashed the contents into the faces of the amorous pair. "That might help!" She bent down her nose twitching. "Oh my, I feared this. The fungiform must be interacting with their emotional brain centers!" She added a healthy slap to each face as they parted.

"Oww! Why'd you do that?" shouted John.

Aeryn tried to pull herself back to rationality, but the smell of Crichton was in her head and it made her want to... want to… _recreate_ and now! Her hands reached out of their own accord so she tucked them under her thighs and sat on them. "I… ugh, what the frell is happening?" she shouted while her skin tried to crawl back towards Crichton.

Hemach took her shoulders and pulled her a foot away from John who, despite his verbal protests, was trying to slither back to her. The little healer took Aeryn's chin and peered into her face. "It will pass. In another arn, or so."

"Woo boy! You could sell that stuff on every campus and make a million, no billion!" hooted Crichton. He drew his lips apart and grimaced, then shook his head. "Yeah, I think you'd make a billion. Bit rude, though." He was able to regain some of his senses, that is, higher senses for Aeryn's scent still affected him in very basic ways. God, he thought, I have to touch her, touch her, make love… he stopped himself with a will. "Oh did I? Did we?"

D'Argo booted Crichton away. "No. I stopped you," he chuckled then squatted down. "You two looked like you did back on the pod."

"The pod?" Aeryn puzzled over it. "Oh… the pod…"

"In the Flax," added Crichton. A fist beat against the floor slowly. "That was…"

"A close call," said Aeryn who wiped at a tear. "Frell this stuff!" she shouted and spat. "It makes me feel…"

D'Argo had seen the Sebacean and human's reaction when he had rescued the pair just as the oxygen was gone in the trapped pod a monens ago. They clearly had been about to engage in sexual congress, and his interruption, though lifesaving was clearly not wanted. He had seen the signs that despite their animosity there was an appeal between the two but now he stood, crossed his arms and snarled.

"Ah, yeah!" John finished for her.

Aeryn crouched lower while her hands trembled. "Right." She glanced quickly at the human and caught his eye. A silent communication went between them, born of shared disgust, desire, and hopelessness. "Not quite…"

"The right time or the place!" laughed Crichton. "It was the food?"

Hemach smiled her crooked smile. "I've never seen it act _quite_ this way. Morlamms are immune to its effects. You must be," she sniffed the air, "quite different." She sidled over to D'Argo, "but you…" her nose worked once more, "are unaffected."

"Correct." D'Argo scoffed, for if anything he felt quite the opposite of sexual desire. It was more like the feeling before a battle, one of wariness and danger. It left a shivering feel between his shoulders. D'Argo asked John, "Can you control yourself now?"

Crichton nodded and gave a sad smile. "With the headache I'm getting, oh yes."

Aeryn nodded slowly as her head felt about to explode. "Me as well." She still felt the pull - the desire - but it was ebbing. It felt like she had recreated for days, yet they hadn't actually done more than kiss and grope… She reluctantly pulled away from those thoughts, sighing slowly. The thought of another man flashed into her head and she pushed it away savagely. "Quite the after effect."

"Drop that into a commando encampment and you'd have quite the party!" laughed Crichton.

"Or a weapon," sniffed D'Argo and he smiled in the most alarming way.


	48. Chapter 48

Chapter 48

Zhaan

"The Shrine of Theclassa! Life! Zhaan! Drink of Her!" Lopzeck urged Zhaan so she did once more.

The liquid felt like fine nectar as it coursed down her parched throat. It was delicious, but it was also something else; something that teased at the edges of her memory. There was some taste that she had known once.

Lopzeck squatted nearby, his long arms and hands dipped into the spring. He rocked his head from side to side, long ears flopping. "Good. Water in the desert! Water where there was none!"

Zhaan extended her senses, both real and non-corporeal and something stroked at her mind. This was not like a joining, more like a brush of the essence of a presence. She was trying to put it in words when her companion gave her more water. Here by the source was a taste she could just recall. "That's it! This isn't just water!"

Lopzeck wagged his head and laughed. "No. No! Not just water!"

Zhaan sat down and folded her legs under her taking a meditative position. "Lopzeck."

"Yes."

"Why are _you_ here?"

He sighed. "I was left here."

"Yes, but by who and why?"

The creature scratched his head. "I was told to. Ordered."

"Why?"

"Others might…" he sniffed, "try to take her."

"Her. You mean Theclassa."

The being nodded and stood up spreading his arms wide. "Theclassa gave us this place in the wasteland." He looked down at her in joy.

"Underground."

Lopzeck laughed. "Above is too… hot… dry. Better for Morlamms to live down here. Cool and safe. No storms down here."

"Morlamms? Who are they?"

"Ones who mine. They dig – all time – dig deep and far. Big… thing… comes back many cycles to take rock they dig away." He held his arms out and waved them. "Big – it rules sky. Loud. Floats in air."

"A spacecraft? That is interesting." Zhaan touched the thing's foot. "This is your home then."

He shook his head. "No. Not home. Home far away - across sea of suns. Gentler place than this," he stamped the ground. "Too much rock."

"A sea of suns? Oh, across what John calls the galaxy." She sighed. "We too are far from home."

Lopzeck sat down and patted her hand compassionately. "Lost."

She smiled. "Yes, gentle creature, we are. Some by choice and others by accident."

"Me too."

"You are lost?"

"No. Left." He wagged his hand and his rough paw tightened on hers. "I was sent here," he pointed about the cavern where the spring gushed forth, lit by a cold light of the rocks. "Told to guard spot. Constable. Keep away."

"To keep away who, exactly?"

His brow furrowed and he clearly puzzled over her question. His other hand played with a pebble. "Unknown. Others. Like you, maybe?"

"You are a Morlamm."

"No. Not. Other. I was _crew_. Voyager over sea of suns."

"Crew? Of what?"

"My name is Elrot-Tybarg Lopzeck. The ship, name Elrot-Tybarg. Big thing… big… machine."

"A family ship? You were sent here to mine." Zhaan looked gently at the creature whose mind was muddled. Yet there was the spark of intelligence in him, but his attention did wander and his thoughts were disordered.

"Yes. Rocks. Dig out caverns. Do what ship tell us to."

"The ship told you?"

"Machine-ship is smart. Really smart! Smarter than me," he said sadly. "But Shrine of Theclassa," her played with the water. "She was director, you know."

Zhaan started. "_Director_?"

He smiled. "Elrot-Tybarg _Theclassa_," he told her reverently. "Director – head of mission. Very important. Tells us… erh, _them_ to dig. Morlamms were _cargo_."

"So the ship brought you here; you and the Morlamms. Set this place working. This ship left you here to mine, whatever there is down here. And when does the ship return?"

"Elrot-Tybarg say come soon. Back soon. But she lied."

"What did she lie about?'

"That ship come back! But _not_ come back!" His voice shouted but then he smiled idiotically. "But Theclassa make water come up here! Bright digger thing go down deep and far. Water burst up! Then she put magic in water."

"Magic?"

"Powerful." Lopzeck stood and held out his hand. "Come."

Zhaan allowed herself to be guided down a deep and narrow passage, more crack than tunnel, to a small room where a metallic hatch plugged the opening. "What is this place?"

"_Magic_ place," he said and bowed to the door. He approached it and placed his grubby hands on the metal, which split open. "Magic in there. Come with me."

He shambled forward pulling Zhaan through the door which closed silently behind them.


	49. Chapter 49

Chapter 49

Aeryn

"A weapon?" Aeryn choked. "You mean that." She looked up at D'Argo, trembling in fear.

D'Argo looked back at her with a grim expression. "I do."

John laughed.

"What's so funny?" she asked.

Crichton chuckled once more. "Nothing. Only _out here_ would anyone ever consider a sex bomb as a weapon." The human went on. "Course the effect is not as deadly."

"Might be more fun than deadly," Aeryn said then looked back D'Argo. "Weapon you said."

"Yes," D'Argo guffawed. "For when they were occupied…" he smiled terribly and turned away.

Aeryn looked to the side at Crichton who was sprawled bonelessly on the floor. "Sorry, for if I hadn't been here…"

John reached out a shaky hand and touched her leg. "Aeryn, uhm, I tried to… stop…"

She shook her head. "Been a while since someone tried to make love to my boot."

Crichton grinned. "That wasn't _quite_ my objective, I believe."

"Lucky boot," she answered and stroked his fingers. "Shame…" she cleared her throat and shaking her head complained, "And a headache besides. Not quite what I craved."

He ran his hand over his face. "Hell of a day. A spaceship crash, lost in these caverns, and a sexual explosion. Sheesh."

"Not your regular sort of day."

"No," John said. "I am sorry about the boot," he snorted, "and the other things."

Aeryn reached out and touched John's hand. "Not our fault."

"I wonder," he asked her softly, "what would have…"

"What do you think?" she leered slightly. "Not exactly planned, though."

"No doubt," his voice fell. "Ah, not very nice, however. I'm sorry all the same."

"Crichton, I have no doubt that we… we… would have…"

"I get it. Just stop and Aeryn, I wouldn't ever force you."

"Nor I you. Recreating should never be _that way_." She looked away. "But given the right time and place," she cleared her throat and looked about the room. "Can't say this would be it." Her hand shifted its grip and softly stroked his wrist. What she wanted… well… _who_ she wanted was lying two motras away and it was taking all her willpower not to climb onto him. "John…" she started to say. "I…"

On a command carrier, it was fully expected that Peacekeeper troops would recreate freely, as it long it did not interfere with their assigned duties. Her friend Yal Henta was one, that for a time, recreated with anyone and everyone after lights out.

Aeryn asked her, "Why? What is wrong? You didn't used to be like this. Are you trying to prove something? Plus you're getting a drenish reputation."

Yal bobbed her head, her short hair flicking. "Aeryn, after what I saw…"

"What? On your last mission?" Aeryn and Yal were closeted in a dark corner of the pilot's reserved bar.

Her friend drank her raslack and leaned back, rolling the mug between her hands. "I saw my flight leader and his wingman collide after the attack roll out."

Aeryn stiffened. "A mid-air?"

"And after we got through all the defensive fire those mud-grubbers were putting up!" Yal took another drink and looked long and hard at her Aeryn. "What's it all mean?"

"You had your orders. Just as we all do."

A tall pilot slunk down on the cushion next to Henta and stroked her shoulder. "Tonight?" he asked softly.

Henta put down her mug and gave Aeryn a sad smile. "We fly and we frell! What else is there?" Then she stood up and entwining her arms in the man's left Aeryn sitting in the booth.

Aeryn knew that recreating was important. It released natural biological and physiological tension, or so she had been taught. She had no intent of asking to be put on a breeding roster, which was sometimes granted to volunteers, but was typically based on random selection.

Another pilot sat down. "Your friend left."

Aeryn recognized the man. "You're in Recon."

He smiled and it was a nice smile. "Belak Mela."

"What do you want?"

He shrugged. "You looked lonely." He stretched his arms and one landed behind her shoulders, where his hand started rubbing. "And… I'm lonely. So…"

Aeryn watched Henta and her date leave the noisy bar and that wasn't what she wanted. "Go away."

The hand withdrew and he stood. "Some other time, perhaps."

"It's not you," she told him, and he was nice to look at, tall and dark, with blue eyes. "Its…"

Belak cupped her chin and grinned. "Wrong time and place, Officer Sun?"

Aeryn had left the bar, changed into workout gear and pummeled the punching bag until it gave up.

Crichton pulled his hand free of hers. "No. Bad timing. Wrong place." He sighed. "We're still stuck underground. And how will find Zhaan or Rygel? No one has tried to shoot me, today, must be about time for that to happen." He looked over at Pulta.

The little miner blanched, if it was possible for a furry creature to do so, and ducked his head abashedly. He seemed to tower over the prostate human and Peacekeeper. "I should return this to you." He held out John's pulse pistol. "You are clearly not a threat. Take it back."

"What about my pistol?" Aeryn asked.

Pulta coughed. "I will order that your weapons be returned." He cast a worried look at Ka D'Argo. "And yours in addition to theirs."

D'Argo crossed his arms. "I feel bereft without it. A Luxan warrior without his blade…" his voiced drooped. "Not much of a warrior."

Crichton chuckled. "I've seen you do plenty of damage without your blade."

D'Argo sniffed. "True. Now how can we find our companions? They must be searching for us. You mentioned your people have seen a floating thing. That is one of our friends."

"You told me you had strange friends. Describe this one."

"Rygel is a small person, sort of grayish-green. Small eyes and ears. He doesn't walk much; prefers to ride is hover-chair. And he is, or was, a dominar, an emperor."

Pulta snorted. "Doesn't sound like much of an emperor."

"Rygel ruled the Hynerian Empire. He claims six hundred billion Hynerians called him their ruler," D'Argo intoned. "It's true."

Pulta's eyes grew large. "Six hundred billion? He must be _very_ wise."

Aeryn and Crichton laughed together. "Not hardly," Aeryn added. "He'd steal the laces from your boots, if he thought there was a trader who might give him a few krindars for them."

"Oh, I'm sure I'd tremble in fear before him," sniffed Hemach. "How are you feeling, you two?" She squatted down, nose twitching. "You two are _zelmash_, I can tell."

"Zelmash?" croaked Aeryn whose hand was still trying to crawl across to John's.

Hemach smiled, her ragged teeth shining. "Yes. Oh yes. It's what we call two who have…" she paused, "been together."

"Not for some time," said John with an odd look.

"It was just the once, Crichton," Aeryn said crossing her arms in anger. "And none of _your_ business!" she barked at the furry healer.

"Fine! Fine, if that's what you wish." Hemach held up her paws in surrender. "I'll not mention it."

John's head tilted towards Aeryn's and he whispered, "If it really happened."

Aeryn's head turned to hers and his face went white when her saw the fierce look she had. "Now _you_ want to _deny_ it happened?" She rolled away from him and huddled into herself. "Frell yourself!"

**Author's Notes:**

**Krindar - Monetary credits used on some worlds of the Uncharted Territories.**


	50. Chapter 50

Chapter 50

Pilot

Pilot scanned the readouts for the thousandth time; no the ten thousandth time. Moya prodded his to make more scans. "I have been Moya! There is NOTHING there!"

Moya's voice boomed through her chambers in despair.

"I know, I know!" Pilot screamed back.

Moya made a slight attitude adjustment and Pilot felt the motion. "That is an excellent, idea, Moya. If we can realign your antennas…"

A voice broke into the comm channel. "Pilot? You in there? It's Chiana, you… haven't, haven't locked me out… have you?"

Pilot's concentration on the planet below was shattered. "Yes, Chiana," he answered in irritation. "We have ben… seeking the others."

"What's the matter? And can you snag this frelling thing in her docking web?" the Nebari refugee asked. "I don't think this piece of dren will hold together much longer."

"I thought you were staying another ten solar days with the trading vessel? It was the Tupellians, I recall."

Chiana laughed. "Naw. Those hezmana losers were no fun at all." She sniffed. "They practically threw me off their smelly ship. How was I to know they would be allergic?"

Pilot's head rose in alarm. "Are you bearing a contagion? For if you are, you will have to undergo full decontamination. Moya will prepare," he sent three DRDs to erect a security door in the maintenance bay, "an enclosure. Strictly a precaution, Chiana."

The Nebari laughed. "Disease? Like a virus or a parasite or something? I'd like to see the disease that can infect a Nebari. On Nebari Prime we are all - erh - modified - fortified, to resist such things."

Pilot threw a quick thought Moya's way and the Leviathan agreed. "Nevertheless, Chiana, Moya and I must insist. Pilot and Moya were both unsure that Chiana was entirely trustworthy. Commander Crichton seemed to think otherwise. He tended to call the Nebari girl Pip, which made no sense at all to anyone on board. Pilot had been unable to ascertain what possible allure there was for the gray girl. Until he knew otherwise, he was keeping a very careful eye on her.

"So okay, just let me in? This ship has got an auto function to send it back to the freighter." She coughed. "And they sorta, didn't exactly let me have it, I sorta took it. So best to, to… let it go home."

"I see," Pilot said. "Moya has opened the docking bay."

He watched as the tiny craft, hardly more than a life pod and a drive system, came inside Moya. The ship set down, a hatch opened, and Chiana rolled out, making a rude gesture of some kind. The tiny craft's hatch slammed shut and it lifted off and retreated.

"Chiana, follow One-Eye to the chamber Moya has prepared please."

"One-eye? Who the frell is that?"

Pilot sighed. "The DRD with the broken eyestalk. Commander Crichton damaged it. It has been sort of a mascot of his since."

"So why doesn't Moya fix it?" she laughed. "Oh this one?" she pointed to a DRD with a drooping camera stalk. She bent down in her odd splay legged fashion and peered at it, cocking her head from side to side. "What's this blue stuff wrapped around it?"

"Crichton attempted to repair it. Curiously the DRD will not allow itself to undergo the process." Pilot coughed. "Most unusual."

Chiana laughed. She had seen and felt the unusual ways that John Crichton affected the people on the Leviathan. When she was with the human - such a strange word - for some reason she felt calm and safe. He also called her Pip, a word she did not understand, or why he did so, but no one else had ever called her such a thing.

"Crichton is different. Lead on little DRD. Where's he taking me?" The bot moved across the bay and a small door opened. "In there?"

The DRD beeped and she entered. The door swung shut and the chamber was filled with a bright orange light.

Chiana giggled as the light made her gray skin look brown. "What is this?"

Pilot coughed. "Moya suggested that you undergo this simple procedure. It will only take a few arns."

"What's it do?"

"It will remove any dangerous pathogens."

She laughed. "It's not likely that this dinky light will do much."

Pilot grunted. "Moya assures me that the long wave treatment will be effective against surface pathogens."

"Pilot! I told you that Nebari…" she stopped. "Is this a jail cell?"

"No, just a simple precaution." Pilot coughed. "Please remove your garments and relax on the couch."

Chiana watched as a panel flipped down and a long table protruded. "Couch?"

"The platform is heated and will keep you warm."

"Okay, but where is everybody?" She sat on the platform and it did feel both warm and soft. She started to strip off her boots. "They all up in command or in the center chamber?"

"No, Chiana. I fear that…" he coughed again. "While you were gone from Moya, Ka D'Argo, Officer Sun, and Commander Crichton descended to the planet below. They went down to a small mining colony to trade for food since supplies are rather limited at the moment."

"So they'll be back soon?" Chiana dropped her clothing to the floor and stretched luxuriously. If Crichton had seen her he would have said _like a cat_, from her lithe movements. "And Zhaan and Rygel?"

"Uhm, well… you see…" Pilot felt absolutely timid for what he had to tell her. "The first three appear to have crashed their pod during a violent storm on the surface. Pa'u Zotah Zhaan and Dominar Rygel went down in the other pod to bring them home. I fear that all five of them have now gone missing."

Chiana sprang up and started beating upon the sealed hatch. "Open up! Open the door! Pilot? I can help!" He fists beat upon the door. "Frell!"

One-eye, the DRD, sat there beeping forlornly outside as the woman screamed and pounded on the door. After a hundred microts it switched off its aural sensors and started to calculate prime numbers while the Nebari continued to beat on the panel.


	51. Chapter 51

Chapter 51

Rygel

Dominar Rygel the 16th floated, and not serenely, the length of a long and dusty cavern. He'd been underground at least an arn and had seen no trace of his lost companions, other than the boot prints near the cliff. The dust floating in the bow-cool air made him sneeze, and since he was nervous, he also farted from time to time. "Yes," he squeaked as the helium from his sphincter reached his vocal cords, "this sort of thing always does make me nervous!"

He drifted a few motras above rocks and debris. "However will I find Zhaan, or D'Argo and the rest down here?" His floating throne-chair mounted small lamps which projected some distance ahead so he did not have to rely on the dim blue-green glow from the strange stuff on the walls and ceiling.

His slit-pupils ranged far and wide as he plaintively called out, "Zhaan? Where the _hezmana_ are you?"

Only the echo of his voice returned.

"Frell," he muttered but coming to a join with another cave, he heard the noise of running water. "Water. Good, I am thirsty!" He traveled a short distance toward the sound of rushing liquid and came upon a hole in the rock where the stream sprang forth. "Ah, cool, clear water. Just what the Dominar ordered."

He parked the chair and slid off, reaching down to the liquid, not noticing a hidden device some distance above him rotate and take aim.

The first few drops were on his lips, not even on his tongue or down thirsty throat when a green beam sprang forth and enveloped him.

"Gaaa!" the Dominar grunted and fell senseless to the rocky floor.

Some little distance away an alarm sounded and a large muddled, yet dedicated, creature reacted. "Alarm?" he paused as he showed Zhaan the contents of the sealed room.

"What's that Lopzeck?" Zhaan asked. "What's happening?" She put her hands to her head and squealed as a loud klaxon began to clamor.

Elrot-Tybarg Lopzeck swung into action, for when he was in the control chamber, his intellect returned to nearly normal. "Intruder!" His paws, which once seemed clumsy, dashed over a light filled panel. "There!" he shouted and jabbed at a large screen, which showed the chamber above. "It… it…" he stopped and scratched a long droopy ear, "what is that thing?"

Zhaan caught only a glimpse. "Rygel! That's my friend, Rygel! What have you done?"

"I… I…" Lopzeck shrugged. "Auto… auto…" he blinked his eyes. "Word… words get lost."

Zhaan's eyes brightened. "An automatic guard system, that it?"

"Yes… guard, protect." Lopzeck touched a control and the screen image expanded to show a short gray-green thing lay on the ground. The thing was less impressive then the brocaded robes he wore. A sound receptor transmitted a loud snore over the background sound of rushing water. "This _thing_?"

"That's Rygel! You've killed him!" Zhaan shouted at Lopzeck. "If you've hurt him…" she baleld a fist as if it strike him.

"No! No! Stop - stop his… thinking… sleep. Sleep is all." Lopzeck paused. "He not hurt."

"You'd better be telling the truth!" She whirled to the doorway and beat on it. "Let me out! I have to make sure he is alright!"

Lopzeck wagged his head. "Sorry. Systems are …" he reached for the door and touched the metal. The hatch retracted at his touch. "Programmed… only me."

Zhaan sprang through, up the twisted passage and by the time the guardian reached her, she was holding Rygel tenderly.

"Is he?" Lopzeck asked, and made a snoring noise deep in his throat, an excellent imitation of a Hynerian snore.

Zhaan rubbed Rygel's earbrow. "He appears to be sleeping, just as you said. How long will this last?"

Lopzeck grinned. "Not long… depends," he said haltingly. "Some may be arns, others, microts." He bent down and sniffed at Rygel. He wrinkled his long nose. "Smells."

"Lopzeck, my friend you have just met a Hynerian - a Dominar no less."

"Dominar? Oh! One who rules. Like Theclassa! But Theclassa is she and is he - a he?"

"Yes, my friend. Rygel is male. Why don't you sit down so that as he wakes you do not startle him?"

Lopzeck sat on a handy rock while Zhaan spoke softly to Rygel. "Rygel? Time to wake. Rygel?"

"Wha…" Rygel grunted softly and his stubby fingers twitched. "Zhaan, is that you?" he asked. "I had the most frelling awful time finding you!"

Zhaan smiled and helped his sit upright. "It's all fine now. You've found me. Why have you come underground?"

"Pilot and Moya threatened to lock me out the ship if I came back without you and the rest… and speaking of the rest…" Rygel swung his head around. "AHHH! What the frell is that?" he grabbed at Zhaan's robes.

Lopzeck smiled and bowed from where he sat. "I am Elrot-Tybarg Lopzeck," he made a hand gesture at his face. "Guardian of the Shrine."

"Well," Rygel stared at the furry being who towered over him even though seated, "whatever your name is, I suggest that you turn that hezmana thing off before you kill someone! All I wanted was WATER you fahrbot fool!"

Lopzeck cowered before the verbal lashing then shuffled to the stream and filling his cupped hands, returning to Rygel. "Drink, then."

Rygel bristled at the suggestion that he drink from the dirty and scarred hands. "I am a DOMINAR! I WILL NOT drink water, no matter how thirsty I am, from DIRTY, GRUBBY PAWS!"

Zhaan swiftly grabbed Rygel's earbrow and twisted it tightly. "Rygel!" she hissed. "Drink it!"

"Oww," Rygel whined, but seeing the threatening look on Zhaan's face, he slurped down the water. "You didn't have to hurt me."

"Good!" Lopzeck laughed. "Good! Now we are friends, yes?"

Rygel wrinkled his nose. "If you say so," he said uncertainly.


	52. Chapter 52

Chapter 52

Crichton

John looked sidelong at Aeryn and then sighed.

"Problem?" she asked.

"I…" his voice faltered.

"You must want to say something."

"Well…"

"You always have something to say." Aeryn looked at Crichton would lay sprawled on the couch an arm's length away. D'Argo had unceremoniously dumped them there after their public and amorous escapade. "Just say it."

Crichton picked up her hand and she didn't draw away. "When you came down to Earth with D'Argo and Rygel to look for me…"

"We didn't _want_ to come to Earth. We were inspecting the wormhole when it sucked us in. Wasn't my idea, and it wasn't _your_ Earth, was it?"

"I did ask you to come with me… you might remember I did that."

Aeryn sighed. "I do and I refused. And my reasons must have been good, for I did not fit in!"

"Aeryn, it wasn't Earth. But you said you admitted you were frightened when you left Moya - to check out the wormhole."

Aeryn recalled the bone shattering fear when the drifting wormhole had twisted about the pod and accelerated them down its electric-blue maw. Another thought was blurted out. "I'll tell you what _really_ frightened me. It was Cobb and Walter and those others… made me wonder who the frell you really were? You human, John Crichton, and your whole fahrbot planet!"

"Aeryn, Cobb and those others… Earth isn't like that!" he exclaimed. "They were _trying_ to get us to react; to make our real natures come out."

"So Urp isn't violent?" She ducked her head whispered, after glancing up at D'Argo who was across the room negotiating with Pulta Crackit and some other miners. "That military rifle was no pulse rifle but it seemed pretty potent."

"M-16; fires a 5.56 mm round. Yeah," he hissed, "potent. You wouldn't want to get hit by one. And it's called Earth," he corrected her for about the thousandth time.

She cleared her throat. "Whatever. Just what I'm saying. You're no soldier - I've seen you shoot - but you know about those rifles."

John paused, his mouth open. Should he tell her about his .22 rifle back home at his dad's house - the gun he used to shoot squirrels? He checked the judgmental tone she had taken with him. "Not everyone on my planet is a soldier."

She tossed her head. "Like I said - violent. Most planetary governments don't allow information about weapons to be widely distributed. I think your United Nations is useless."

John hit his head with an open palm and pushed her hand away, although his hand was reluctant to release it. "Why do I even try to talk to you?"

Aeryn pull his hand back and interlaced her fingers with his. "But I _will_ tell you what I liked."

John smiled. "Now you're talking. Go on." He knew very well, at least he hoped he did, what she was about to say.

Aeryn grinned and toyed with John's fingers. "The…"

"Go on."

"The beer and the rain."

"The beer? Damn. Not the uhm…"

"And the rain was… nice; it tasted nice."

"You'd never been out in the rain?" he laughed. "Strange new worlds…. damn. Rain - rain made your heart sing," he added forlornly.

"Yes, it did; a whole lot more than that awful dress you made me wear."

"It was a dress, Aeryn. Just an Earth dress."

"Those colors, ugh. Hated it. There were other dresses in the closet but you picked that one!"

"It…" he grinned up at her. "Suited you." He didn't tell her that the dress and cardigan he'd picked out reminded him of his school librarian - Mrs. Abernathy - Diane Abernathy. She had these great boobs, all the guys tried to sneak a peek down her cleavage when she was bent over her desk stamping the due date on the card in the back of the book, along with long long legs, but her demeanor was like an old lady. The woman was so hot (mental panting) but her straight cut dress and awful horn rim glasses made her look like a pin-up girl dressed up for Halloween. The faux -Earth dress reminded him of that long gone school librarian, which made sense as it was created from his memories. Poor Mrs. Abernathy, he shook his head. Pretty kinky, John!

But the flowered dress suited Aeryn Sun - Peacekeeper Aeryn Sun - because it wasn't leather or black and she _was_ hot - hotter than the long lost school librarian. He ducked his head. Aeryn looked good in black and in spite of what he thought if she didn't like a flowered dress, then… "Okay."

"Okay what?"

He smiled and shifted mental gears. "You liked the beer!"

"Better than frellip nectar."

John blanched. "Just don't start to tell me where you get it from; the nectar."

Aeryn gave him a rare smile. "Fine."

John pursed his lips and rubbed her hand. "So you liked rain and the beer, that it? What about…"

Aeryn bit her lip for she knew what he waited to discuss. They had _recreated_ once, just the one time. "No."

"No? Now what?"

"No," she hissed. "I told you it was fine. That's all."

Crichton shook his head, bewildered. "What they hell are you talking about?" His fingers rubbed her wrist slowly and started to work their way up, for he still wanted to… he shook his head. "Sorry, lost my train of thought. Fine?"

Aeryn flipped her hair and licked her lips for part of her mind was fogged from the food and the memory of recreating. "I said that," was all she said, but she wanted to say more.

Crichton sighed. There never was a time they could talk about… _that_. "Fine."

Aeryn sniffed. "End of subject, Crichton," she said slowly, but she had enjoyed their time together and Urp was beautiful, even it was raining.

"Yeah, sure - end of subject," he dropped her hand and crossed his arms, half turning away. Thanks, Aeryn, he thought. Thanks a whole hell of a lot! He lay there miserably for quite a while, until D'Argo's muttering finally lulled him to sleep. He was so deep into slumber that he totally missed the feel of Aeryn's foot, which had somehow snuck across the intervening gap and pressed itself against the back of his thigh.

"John?" her soft voice called to him. "John?" She shifted into alert mode. "Crichton!"


	53. Chapter 53

Chapter 53

Chiana

"All five are missing?" Chiana kicked the sealed door and it shivered under the blow. "Well why the frell don't you let me out?"

"I…" Pilot stammered, "I thought it best after recalling the dirty conditions of the freighter you joined." He sniffed. "Moya… suggested it."

"Oh, she did?" Chiana slumped down to the floor. "How long does this take? I could go down to the planet in Aeryn's Prowler."

"I'm not at all sure that Officer Sun would approve."

"Listen Pilot, you can trust me! Have you tried to comm them?" she reached over to her discarded clothing and pulled a sharp tool from a hidden pouch.

"Many times. Moya would prefer if… ahem… the cleansing is complete, before you…"

Chiana crouched at the door and began poking the tungsten-steel tool into a tiny hole by the lock side. "Go on, Pilot. Keep talking."

Pilot felt a twinge on a peripheral sensor. "No, Moya, I do not know what she is doing. Chiana, are you doing something to the compartment door?"

Chiana grinned as she answered. "Ahm, no, I'm... just… resting up against it. You were saying?" The tool twisted under her sure hands and she felt a tiny vibration telegraph itself back to her fingers. "There," she whispered, "about as easy as any other I've worked on…"

With a swoosh the panel flew open as a naked Chiana tucked the tool into her hair and knelt down before the DRD Zhaan called One-Eye. "There, that wasn't so hard. Not for a snurcher!" she giggled and gathering up her clothes, dashed out of the Maintenance Bay.

One-Eye flashed the scene to Pilot and beeped slowly.

"Oh no!" Pilot called out and in a few microts found the Nebari in a lower tier stuffing herself back into her tight clothes. "Chiana, you have not completed the decontamination."

"Pilot! I told you that Nebari don't get infected – by anything – so cool it!" She tugged on the last boot and standing up sighed. "There. Pilot! I'll be in Command in a hundred microts. I want to see all the scans, the time-logs, everything!"

Pilot sighed and Moya made moaning and beeping noises at him. "I know, Moya. That young one is…"

A louder sound echoed through his den which stopped him cold.

"Yes," he answered the Leviathan. "Chiana is resourceful and headstrong. Almost like a certain hooman."

Chiana rushed into Command and the large forward viewpoint showed the desolate red planet below. A large dust storm graced one edge of the planet and she could see the ridges of mountains and mesas speckled across the desert vista below. "Frell me. They're down there?"

"Yes, here is their location. Look at the sub-panel," Pilot told her.

"Okay…" her grey head peered at the display. "Looks to me that you're down at least one transport pod, Moya. Frell – almost crashed directly into that cliff!"

"Surface conditions will support life, but barely. There is some sort of mining operation below the desert. I can only assume that they have taken refuge below. I have not heard from Rygel since he left the pod."

"What? You sent slug-face out into that? What were you thinking? Are you fahrbot?"

Pilot sighed sadly. "Moya and I thought the only way was to… _encourage_… the Dominar to kind them. He was clearly – ahem – _reluctant_."

The Nebari girl whistled in amazement. "Well if this temperature reading is correct no wonder Rygel was reluctant. He's fry up like a Parthian nightcrawler on a hot slidewalk!" She giggled. "That would be a sight. Not that I'd want the little guy to be injured. Maybe singed a little…" she added, never having forgiven Rygel for rude comments and things he'd done to her.

Rygel was like a lot of males – only interested in females for the obvious reasons. Not that he'd ever happened to ask about _her_ tastes. Old sluggo was not exactly to her liking. Now Ka D'Argo was more her style, tall and strong, even if those tenkas seemed a bit much – but she was the sort that never said _no_ to anything, at least not before the first time.

She stretched her arms and back and her tiny lock pick fell from her hair. Smiling she bent and tucked it away in her belt. "Just in case I need it, for the next time. And there always is a next time!" She laughed. She enjoyed a good puzzle, and finding the others down in that boiling desert actually might be fun!

"Pilot can you have Moya increase the mag on this area?" she touched the panel.

"Yes Chiana," Pilot said. "But I really think that you taking the Prowler to the planet would be a very bad idea."

"Shut it, Pilot!" Chiana then laughed. "Sorry Pilot, I'm worried too." Just then the Leviathan seemed very empty.

Author's Notes:

Snurcher – a stealer; a thief. The verb would be _snurching_.


	54. Chapter 54

Chapter 54

Zhaan

Rygel was muttering under his breath and none of his words were very complimentary to their erstwhile host.

Zhaan bent her blue neck towards the Hynerian's ear. "Rygel, quiet!" she hissed.

"Erp… only making… private comments, you know," Rygel replied.

Lopzeck laughed. "I hear, I hear. Yes…" he held his hand to his face and sniffed it, "fragrant."

"Yeah, well, ahmm" Rygel said, then continued. "So my new friend, just what do you intend to do with us?"

Lopzeck scratched his head. "Nothing. Maybe. Perhaps." He gave them a lopsided smile. "What you do with me? Hm? Maybe you go and find your friends. Leave me." He rocked back on his heels and crossed his arms. "I think - you should go."

Zhaan and Rygel eyed one another. "Just, let us go?" she asked.

Lopzeck stood and stared down at them. "Why… not? I was wrong. You are NO threat. Morlamms mine, I…" he waved has hand at the cavern, "stay here."

Zhaan pursed her lips. "Lopzeck, we have no designs on your Theclassa - this stream. But you do not control it do you? What is in the water…"

Lopzeck laughed sardonically. "Makes Morlamm people work - work hard. Prevent…" he searched for a word, "_dissension_. Make mine fast and long. Their job."

Rygel sniffed. "You some sort of keeper, or are you their jailer?"

"Rygel!" Zhaan shouted. "Elrot-Tybarg Lopzeck is a…" she cast a cautious look at the creature. "More of a caretaker," she said softly not wanting to confuse or inflame the being.

"Yes… yes… I am… caretaker," Lopzeck said proudly. "Not guard - not really."

"It's settled then, we can go?" Rygel said. "Now? If we don't get a move on Moya and Pilot might leave."

Zhaan stood and helped Rygel settle himself on his throne chair. "We should find our friends."

Lopzeck embraced Zhaan. "No find. No need! They are… with Morlamms. System track visitors." He waved to the sealed door. "In there; will locate." He turned and left them.

Rygel's chair floated higher. "Seems reasonable, Zhaan, don't you think?"

Zhaan bit on a finger nail. "I don't like leaving Lopzeck. He is damaged by his cycles of solitude."

The furry creature returned just then and gave Zhaan a small device. "Here. Map will take you to your friends. They are with Morlamms now. Central nexus chamber."

"How did you find them so quickly?"

The caretaker smiled and spoke in an authoritarian way. "Scanners track all occupants in mines and tunnels. Three life signs detected on thermal scans that do not correlate with transmitters. One to one correlation; no transmitters, not Morlamms; therefore are your friends."

Rygel peered at Lopzeck. "Transmitters?"

Lopzeck nodded. "All Morlamms registered and identified by function, name, duty station. Full dossiers on file."

Zhaan gave Rygel a knowing look. "These people - the Morlamms, your miners - they have ident chips?"

Lopzeck drew himself straighter. "Standard procedure for all contract cargo."

"And how long has this colony been in operation?" Rygel said.

"Count equals one hundred and thirty eight cycles. Ship not come back in all that time." Lopzeck sighed. "Theclassa - Director Theclassa said return after five."

Zhaan started. "Five? Five cycles?"

Lopzeck grinned his mad grin again and now his intellect was clearing sagging. "Yess… Ship late… very late."

Zhaan took his hand gently. "You are marooned then. But why, Lopzeck, why can you converse so intelligently microts ago but now, you are having difficulty?"

Lopzeck shrugged. "Machines in cave - take away effects. Realign mind with stored memories and orders… then…" his face sagged back into the near mindless creature Zhaan had been found by.

Zhaan's eyes brightened. "Then the effect can be reversed? We must do this, Rygel! We can help you!"

Lopzeck held her hand and his slurred voice spoke beseechingly. "Help… me, Zhaan. Help… help… poor Lopzeck. Ship, Elrot-Tybarg NOT come back!"

"Oh Zhaan, must you try to help the entire galaxy?" Rygel muttered.

"These Morlamms are slaves, Rygel, and this creature is no different!" The befuddled Lopzeck did not notice the tiny punch that Zhaan gave Rygel in further reply.


	55. Chapter 55

Chapter 55

D'Argo

"And you believe that you can provide us with bolts of this _grallic_ cloth?" asked one of the miners fingering the slick material.

D'Argo held the fragment of the shiny gold material in his large hands. "There a number of sheets made of this on board Moya."

"Moya?" Pulta craned his neck. "Are they down in our tunnels as well?"

"No," sighed D'Argo. "Moya is our ship and she's a _she_."

Pulta started. "Your ship has a gender?"

"Yes. Moya is a bio-mechanoid."

"I know that we have been out of comm for some time, but this is surprising." Pulta scratched his head. "We know not of such a ship type."

"What is your ship? Do you expect it soon?" D'Argo stiffened for they remained on the run from Crais, the enraged Peacekeeper commander. Considering his brother had been killed in a collision with Crichton's module, he would not pause for a microt in hunting them.

Pulta tipped his head. "We have been expecting its return for some time."

"But soon though." D'Argo peeked over at the couch where Aeryn seemed to be sneakily trying to cuddle up to Crichton. Frell, he thought. Whatever was in the food was very powerful. He smiled, as it did not affect him, but seeing the staid Officer Sun crawling beneath Crichton was comical.

"Perhaps not."

The Morlamm's answer brought his attention back to the present. "How long?" He fingered the comm badge on his shirt, knowing a call to Pilot would be blocked by all the rock overhead.

Pulta sighed, echoed by the three other miners at the table. "For over one hundred cycles. But we continue to mine…"

"You ship has been missing"

"Delayed! Certainly only _delayed_."

"Delayed then," D'Argo coughed. "That's quite a delay."

"We continue to follow our orders. The mining goes on day and night - but solar days are meaningless to us. We operate on mission elapsed time."

"Just how long can you go on?"

"Well, we are totally self-sufficient here. We grow and synthesize our own food, repair our machinery and so on."

"But surely, uhm, surely the workers get tired, or killed, and you need replacements."

"No. Injuries are rare, we may become scarred, but we do heal." He rolled his shoulders. "The scars on my back were painful, but do not hinder me any longer."

"But you must get… uhm, tired?"

"We have our work." Pulta nodded. "Yes, the work continues. But it does become… tedious."

D'Argo looked about the sumptuous room they sat in. "Adnon didn't have many wants did he?"

"Overseer Adnon - that is the _former_ overseer - was tasked to maintain production. That he did."

D'Argo leaned back and stared hard at the furry being. "But _you_ work all the time."

"That is _our_ function."

"All the time?"

"We… occasionally are given rest days. But even then we find it," Pulta's head drooped, "_boring_ with no work to do."

"But you must have families? You must want to spend time with them?"

"No children are here. Reproduction is not part of our… orders."

D'Argo finally started to put one and one together. "You are slaves then! All of you!" he growled.

Pulta's mouth worked silently then with a quiver he spoke. "_That_ word is forbidden to speak among us. We are… _mining_ _units_ tasked to work. So we work."

D'Argo wrinkled his beaky nose. "This is horrible. Distasteful!"

Pulta eyed his fellows cautiously. "Perhaps… but our orders state…"

Ka D'Argo shot to his feet and bellowed, "Orders? ORDERS? Brain imprinted as well!"

"Our ways," Pulta stood up, "are _not_ yours, large visitor from above."

D'Argo had heard of rare instances like this from history in Peacekeeper Space. Each time some self nominated superior race had created _professional servants_, was the politically correct term, to serve their needs. And, usually, other races had to wade in and free their so-called _servants_. He felt anger growing and a Luxan Warrior's anger was not to be taken lightly. "Your ways, little one, are WRONG!"

"And you do not have workers on your home world, giant thing?" Pulta glared up at him defiantly.

"Yes, we do! But their service, as you call it, is voluntary, and not inbred!" He crossed his arms, "And I know _slavery_ when I see it!" He took a giant breath. "Aeryn! Crichton! These creatures are slaves!" he shouted and Aeryn jolted across the way. He saw her head fly up in alarm.

Aeryn shifted into alert mode. "Crichton!"

"Huh?" John responded sleepily. "Whazup?"

"Wake the frell up!" Her foot, where it had been trying to worm it's way between his legs, now flashed out and kicked.

"OWW! Damn it, Aeryn!" He yelled. "That hurt!"

Aeryn sat up and slapped his backside. "Something's changed, Crichton!"

John rolled onto his back and rubbed his face. "Doesn't it always?"


	56. Chapter 56

Chapter 56

Chiana

"Show the hezmana scan again!" Chiana screamed at Pilot and she heard her voice echo all the way from Command down the tier and back again along the long spine of the Leviathan.

"Yes, Chiana," Pilot sighed. "No need to shout."

She struck the panel with a gray fist. "Now!"

"Why are you so?" Pilot gulped. "Grumpy?"

"Because," Chiana hissed.

Pilot did as she bid and examined the Nebari carefully. "Chiana, not to pry, but… what is wrong? Are you… quite all right?"

Chiana looked up from the panel. "I'm… only concerned about the others…" her voice trailed off softly and she said something he could quite hear.

"What's that, Chiana?"

She closed her eyes for a few microts. "And Crichton, I said." She said the words sadly. John Crichton - such an odd name - seemed to like her, and she'd have frelled him in an instant the first time she saw him. Of course there was an obedience collar around her neck, but all the same. Since then it was obvious that Crichton had a thing for Aeryn, and her for him. But if he ever lost interest in her… she bit her lip… but then there was D'Argo… she shook her head.

"Frell it," she laughed pulling her brain away from her baser instincts. "Plenty of time for _that_ later."

Pilot interrupted her. "Ah, I _have_ noticed that there is a certain - _affinity_ - between the two of you."

"He got me away from that frelling Salis, for he would have taken me back to Nebari Prime for…"

"Mental cleansing. I remember."

"And… and… no body, nobody would like that," she laughed, "least of all me!" Her hands played over the display. "Look! I can set the Prowler down right over here," a slim finger stabbed at the screen, "just a metra from the transport pods."

"A metra? Quite a walk in that heat."

"Nah! No problem! Then I can find Crichton…" she ducked her head and smiled, "and the others too! Even that frellnik Rygel! Ha-ha!"

"Chiana, while I believe that you have only the best interest in the crew, _and_ Crichton, I am quite certain that Officer Sun will protest most vehemently about you taking her Prowler. Have you ever piloted a Prowler?"

Chiana cocked her head and stared at the display where Pilot's hologram appeared. "Pilot! Out in the Uncharted Territories there an awful lot of spacecraft! I've not flown one, but - wellll - if it's got engines, I can fly it!"

"Oh really?" Pilot coughed. "You can fly it?"

Chiana heard his skepticism. "Yeah, yeah I can!" She picked up a chart foil. "And… and I'll show you!"

Moya prodded Pilot. "Yes, I know. Chiana!" He yelled after her as she ran out of Command.

Chiana heard his voice both from the speakers in Command and her comm unit pinned to her dress. She ignored him as she sprinted down to the Maintenance Bay after she flew into her quarters, picked up a small pack hidden under the mattress, and then down to the next tier. She whacked a hand on the nose of the red and black Prowler crouched on its landing gear ready for launch. "Yeah, yeah, I can do this!" The canopy yawned before her and she chinned herself on the coaming, pulling her slim body into the seat. She sniffed at the smell of the plastic interior, which was laced with something _else_. "What is that?" Her sensitive nose worked hard.

"Chakra oil, of course! That Peacekeeper doesn't go anywhere without her pulse pistol!" Her hands touched the controls. "Something else too!" Her backside nestled into the seat cushion and set buckled the straps over her shoulders. "Yeah, yeah! I get it! I get!" she laughed. "Smells like Aeryn!" She wrinkled her nose. "No wonder Crichton's chasing after her! Her smell sorta turns me on too!"

A few switches were thrown, and gauges came to life. "Plenty of fuel. Cells primed. And…" she chuckled, "Pulsers are charged! I like the way that girl thinks!" She pulled the canopy down and sealed it. "Okay Pilot! Open the launch bay door!"

Pilot sighed. "As you wish, Chiana. But if…"

The door gaped open before her and she nudged the Prowler forward with a burp of the engines that singed the walls behind her. "Oops! Ha! Now wonder Aeryn likes to fly this bird!" When the craft was in the launch bay she gulped. "Kay, Chiana, you can do this!"

The Prowler wobbled off the deck and Chiana flew it slowly down the bay, banked to the right and open space appeared before her. "Alright, Chiana," she whispered and then she jammed the throttle forward.

The craft leaped forward pinning her back to the cushions. "Wow! Whoa! Whoa!" she retarded the throttle, cranked in more right bank into a snap roll that took her breath away. "Yeah! Yeah!" she screamed in glee. "Now that's what I'm talking about! These Peacekeepers sure know how to travel in style!"

Chiana dropped the nose and shot straight towards the planet below, the disc of which sat before her like a giant baleful red eye.


	57. Chapter 57

Chapter 57

Crichton

Crichton rubbed his face and peered at Aeryn Sun who'd just slapped his rear end. "Thanks."

She replied "For what?"

"Waking me up." He sat up grinning while Aeryn gave him a puzzled look. "What's going on?"

"D'Argo just discovered something."

"Hey, big guy!" John shouted and D'Argo rushed over, his tenkas flapping behind his head.

"Crichton, Aeryn, these people are slaves! Worse they're programmed to think that's the way it should be!" The Luxan crossed his arms and snarled. "I hate slavery!"

"We tried to get rid of it on my planet a long time ago," John counseled. "But it's hard to stamp out. Damn hard."

D'Argo's nostrils flared as he gathered air. "I think," he said sharply, "we must do what we can for these people." His large hand rose and touched the rings imbedded in his collar bones. "It's… painful to consider."

John rolled off the bed. "We need our guns," he whispered. "What if the powers-that-be figure out that we're here? You think they'd like it if their little secret got out?"

"Overseer Adnon has been taken into custody," piped up Pulta Crackit. "He won't make any trouble."

"Are there any others - like him?" D'Argo asked.

"No. There is a Council, but they are merely puppets of Adnon." Pulta smiled next, "And our ship director, is still missing."

"Tell me about this ship," John urged.

"Pulta here was telling me it's overdue, like by at least a hundred cycles," D'Argo answered.

John bent down and whispered to Aeryn, "What you think?"

"Guns are good. But I agree that we should ensure our safety," she answered as she levered herself off the bed.

John grinned at her.

"What are you grinning at _hooman_?" she bristled.

"Nothing," he said, afraid to mention this was the second time they had shared a bed, although this time it was with their clothes still on. "Let's ask about our pistols."

He turned to Pulta and bent down to face him eye to eye. "Do you think we could have our weapons back? Not that we don't trust you, but…" his voiced fell, "the woman in black standing over their gets very nervous without hers. I really don't want to make her mad, okay?"

Aeryn stood there dressed in black leather, with arms crossed and a grim look on her face. Even John couldn't tell if it was for show or otherwise.

Pulta gulped. These people were disturbing in a number of ways, and he did not want to anger them. "That will be arranged." He turned to the side and gave an order to one of his companions.

D'Argo crouched down. "I suppose we have a deal? You're interested in the cargo of cloth we have on our ship, and you have food, even that mushroom stuff, which, ahem, might be useful in trading."

Pulta smiled. "One of the scouts that looked outside told me that your wrecked craft is made of a metal that we could use. Might we consider that as well? Unless you wish to repair it?"

John glanced sideways at D'Argo. "Big guy?"

"Seems useless to us. Take it. Consider it part of our deal, but we still do not know the whereabouts of Zhaan and Rygel," D'Argo sniffed.

In a little while two miners scampered in, one bearing two pulse pistols and another holding D'Argo's qualta blade.

Aeryn strapped on her holster and checked the weapon. "Right," she said as she slid the pistol into its usual spot on her right hip as her hand caressed the grip. "Ah, that feels better." She looked at Crichton where he was fumbling about attaching his own holster. "You'll never make a soldier, Crichton."

He grinned at her criticism. "Never wanted to be one, babe, just an astronaut."

"Astronaut?" Pulta asked.

"A Latin word meaning star traveler."

Pulta rocked back on his heels. "Stars. I haven't seen the stars for…" he swiped at moisture by his eye, "quite a while."

"They're still up there," John laughed.

Pulta waved his hand. "You have your weapons."

D'Argo sheathed his blade on his back. "Good to go Crichton."

"Now," said Crichton, "we need to find our friends."

Just then shouts of fear and terror echoed from the cavern, so they ran outside, nearly being bowled over by a crush of frightened Morlamms who were scattering like leaves in a hard wind.

Aeryn pulled her pistol and took aim at the apparent source of the disturbance. "D'Argo, make ready!"

The Luxan smiled and drew his blade. "Gladly!" He took up a combative stance, pointing the blade forward. "I love a good fight!"

Morlamms streamed past them in a panic, their high-pitched voices screaming in fright.

"John, you ready?" Aeryn asked, glancing back at him. "Likely to get himself killed in the first volley," she muttered to herself.

John Crichton the astronaut rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Damn!" He pulled his pistol out and held it straight out just as Aeryn had taught him, elbows locked, knees bent, and weapon held in front of his right shoulder. "Damn, just when everything seemed to be going so well," he grumbled.

His hand shook as he took aim on the unseen danger rushing their way.

"Come on then. Bring it," he said resignedly.


	58. Chapter 58

Chapter 58

Aeryn

Officer Aeryn Sun braced her elbows, and not too tightly, her stance being slightly different than a male Peacekeeper would have taken since males had no breasts to interfere with arms and aiming a gun. She realized with a start that the stance she had trained Crichton to use was hers, appropriate for a woman. "Well, John, you'll just have to get used to it," she muttered. "Not likely to matter much."

She glanced to her left, seeing D'Argo standing there, qualta blade locked into firing mode. The qualta blade was an interesting weapon combining pulse burster and edged weapon. She'd seen it in use, actually other blades in use on team mates. They could do frightful damage at close and long range and she was glad she had never had to face a Luxan that close, but she had killed her share.

"Ready?" she asked him.

D'Argo laughed, "Ever and always, Peacekeeper! I was born for this!"

Aeryn was still amazed that in spite of Ka D'Argo's imprisonment for eight cycles on a Leviathan, his spirit was not broken. Those rings on his collar bones had been put there so he could be chained up, and was for long periods, hung on a wall in his prison cell. She was unaware why he had been in prison, declared a convict, but she sighed to herself that it really didn't matter.

Did anything matter, that is what had gone before, out here in the Uncharted Territories? They'd found slavers and slavery, bondage, petty civil wars, drug running and worse. Take Chiana for instance. She was being hauled off to Nebari Prime, her home world, for "mental cleansing." Sounded awful. To do that to their own people was heinous - was the word. Even a Peacekeeper found that offensive.

If Peacekeeper Command had a tool like that, though, they might use it and indiscriminately on their entire force, if not their entire population. There were factions in the Peacekeepers; captains and councils jockeying for position and rank, whole squadrons might go missing and then appear far across the sector as their commanders bid them; all against orders. Curious that some of those units, the ones she had encountered, would freely spend huge numbers of credits of odd make and numeration in bars and sleepovers. Obviously they had been on _special_ _missions_, and she knew what that meant; _dark_ _duties_.

Some of those _dark_ _duties_ were freelance and who knew how many credits were funneled along back channels to the top level? The Peacekeepers were soft in some quarters; soft and venal. Aeryn wasn't, or least she was not aware, that _she_ was, but the memory of Tam being arrested, tore at her. Wasn't that done for her benefit?

She had been on some dark missions herself - which she wished to forget. One especially painful one included the haunting sounds of a screaming young Pilot restrained and in pain. That was Crais' idea and Tam was involved in it up to his neck. Following orders was the phrase, which meant don't discuss it, no bar chatter over it, and you sure as frell did not tell your next unit commander what you had done or where you had been - and they knew not to ask.

Her memory of Tam Velorek, that smooth and charming tech lieutenant, gave her the shakes. "Healthy curiosity isn't against regulations," was one of his favorite sayings, at least late and when in his quarters. He'd been asking her about her combat missions.

"Why?" She was puzzled. Combat missions were part of the job - her _life_ - and they just _were_.

He'd answered with that phrase as he ran his warm hands down her back, whispering in her ear. Another of his phrases was, "I told you that _you_ were _special_."

Just then, one of her calf muscles cramped up and she almost fell.

"Aeryn, you okay?" asked Crichton. More Morlamms ran past in panic. "And what the hell is coming this way?"

She ignored him, just straightened herself, tossed her head and kept the pistol steady. The pistol felt cold at first but the metal warmed to her touch and the surface was polished by untold hours of drill and combat. How many rounds had she fired with her pistol? The chip in the handle could tell her that answer - probably in the hundreds of thousands. The weapon was nearly indestructible, as long as it was maintained.

She popped her neck to the side and seeing a break in the crowd surging past them got a glimpse of something - something unusual.

"They're coming!" She held her ground and sighted along the pistol. Don't jerk the trigger, she had trained Crichton. Just press it. Her index finger was rock-steady and she made her breath go slow and even. Yes, she thought, just give me a clear target.

The _something_ was larger than the tiny miners running past. It was dark in color, had arms and legs, the usual number, and it loped along in a shuffling lope. Frell! Miners still were in the way!

"I see it!" shouted D'Argo.

"Hold your fire!" Crichton yelled.

"Crichton, shut it!" she yelled at the hooman. "We don't know…" Maybe he was right, for there was something else, since it was hard to see in the dim blue-green light, even though hers and D'Argo's eyesight was so much sharper than Crichton's. There were other things approaching, and they were all different.

There was also some yell or shout connected with the thing or things. "What is that?" she muttered, the sound almost, almost made sense, but the screaming Morlamms and multiple echoes muddled it all up.

She took aim and caressed the trigger. Five more microts, then I fire, she thought. One, two, three, four…

Suddenly Crichton screamed out. "No! Wait! Don't shoot! I think… I think it's Zhaan!"

Aeryn raised her vision, willingly defocussed mind and body from the half-seen target. "What?"

D'Argo lowered his qualta blade. "He's right. Hezmana, the astronaut is right!"

Zhaan waved a blue arm, made darker in the lighting, and D'Argo waved back. "It is! It's them!" He laughed. "Hah! And where's that mighty Dominar?"

A throne-sled bobbed upward and they could all see the rude gesture that Dominar Rygel the Sixteenth made at them.

"Where the frell have you been?" Aeryn shouted at their friends. She lowered her pistol yet held it ready in both hands for a snap shot.

Rygel coasted to a stop in front of Zhaan and the shaggy something by her side. "We've been looking for you three failures," Rygel coughed. "Lost down here in this maze of tunnels, the dust makes me cough, and this thing over here even stunned me! I smell food! Did you leave some for us?"

Crichton stepped forward and petted Rygel's head like he would a dog. "Sparky! How are you? Welcome to downtown miner-ville!"

"Well, whatever these things call it, it smells," he sniffed, "but I am very hungry. Food?"

D'Argo barked with laughter. "In there," he nodded his head towards the building they had dined in. Without further pause Rygel swopped inside and they heard him shout with apparent joy.

Zhaan asked them, "Are you well?"

"Yeah, we're fine," John laughed. "Finer than frog hair! You?"

"We have," Zhaan coughed, "had an adventure. I trust you have as well."

D'Argo held his qualta blade almost but not quite nonchalantly. "Who's your friend?" He pointed to the furred person by her. "Is it a threat? Panicked the Morlamms."

The thing bobbed its head and crouched down. "I am… am…" his voice failed then came back. "So many, so many!"

Zhaan put her bald head against the things. "It's all right Lopzeck. These are my friends. Have no fear."

The thing called Lopzeck shook at their feet for microts. "No you. Not you. Just so many - too many. Not used… to seeing…" he hid his face, "so many people." Then he burst into tears and sobbed hysterically in a high screech.

Aeryn holstered her pistol and relaxed. "Well that went well," she said sarcastically.


	59. Chapter 59

Chapter 59

Zhaan

"Hezmana! I'm so stuffed," slurred Rygel, after his fourth helping of everything there was to eat. "I don't think I could eat another thing!"

"From the way you've been stuffing yourself, I was afraid you might explode!" jeered Aeryn. She sat stiffly across the table from Crichton, avoiding looking straight at him, that much was clear to Zhaan.

As a Priest of the Goddess Zhaan was well trained in reading body language and it was clear that _something_ had happened between John and Aeryn. "You're… all well?" she asked. "After the crash."

D'Argo sneezed. "The Morlamms… erh… took us in."

"More like kidnapped us," muttered Aeryn.

"But in spite of that you are well." Zhaan stated.

"If we'd stayed up above in the cave, we'd likely be dead of the heat." Crichton commented as he leaned back and picked his teeth. "Don't you think?"

"Possibly," Aeryn said, and again did not look at Crichton, very obviously trying to avoid his gaze. She sat with arms crossed, tossed hair and pointedly glared at Zhaan. "What?"

Zhaan ignored her as she sat between the two, her head on a swivel going back and forth. "You're sure you are all well?"

"I…" Aeryn started then shut up as D'Argo interrupted. "Officer Sun was knocked unconscious for several arns. She seems to have recovered."

"Aeryn, are you well? I should check you over once we are back aboard Moya."

Aeryn tossed her head and winced. "I'm fine."

"If you had lost consciousness for all that time, I'm not that knowledgeable of Sebacean physiology… but given the length of time…"

Aeryn slammed a hand down on the table. "No. I'm fine." She jumped up. "Need some air," then she left walked to the door.

"Zhaan, give her some space," whispered Crichton. "She might be a little…"

Zhaan was now quite concerned. "What? What's happened?"

"Oh leave the Peacekeeper alone! She's always that way!" Rygel said and burped several times. "Is there any more of this green… stuff?" he tapped to an empty dish, "Of course in this light it all looks green," he sneered.

A Morlamm brought another bowl and set it before him and Rygel began gobbling again. "Umph, umph!" He smacked his lips as it went down. "Reminds me of grilled Sarlac giblets! I can't get enough of it!"

Crichton turned to Pulta who sat in their midst agog at the new visitors. "Don't mind Rygel, he… well, he's a glutton."

Rygel glared at Crichton then let loose a blast of helium. "Perfectly natural bodily function," he squeaked as the helium affected his vocal cords. "All beings do it! Why can't I?

Crichton pushed the Dominar back and pulled the plate away from him. "Enough, Rygel! You're scaring the Morlamms!" He rolled his eyes. "Sorry, Pulta. He's always like this."

Pulta turned wide eyes to the alien crew. They were all so different and strange. All of them, except for the ones called Aeryn and Crichton. They were similar in build and coloring, although the female seemed to be far tougher and aggressive than the male. They said they were different species from far apart across the galaxy. Hemach the healer said they were related; she could smell it, and their almost mating after eating confirmed it to him.

He put that mystery aside and looked at the one called D'Argo - the warrior. That one was a keen negotiator. Now all they needed was to get back to work, get these _things_ out of the mine and… and what then? Adnon was in security and they needed to… do something.

"What's the matter, Pulta," asked Zhaan. "You seem troubled."

"I…" he bowed slightly to the blue woman. "Mistress, I am, _unsure_ what happens _next_."

"What do you mean?" Zhaan had met these creatures only an arn ago yet she understood almost how they thought. "Oh, that you have been freed."

Pulta coughed. "You said that earlier. A word… a word we… _struggle_ with."

Zhaan bent her head down to his. "_Freedom_ is a precious thing."

"But…" Pulta looked shocked at the two Morlamms sitting near him. "What does one do with it?"

"What?" laughed Crichton. "You've got to be joking! Freedom! Liberty!" He stood and took a patriotic pose. " '_We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.' _That's what!"

D'Argo laughed. "You're quoting from the Letters of Mahex Sifert! An ancient sage of my planet. However did you hear of him?"

"No, it's the word of Jefser the Rebel, who was executed for defying the edicts of Dominar Rygel the Tenth!" added Rygel. "They burned him, you know, and all his followers. Serves him right."

Aeryn stood in the doorway. "Those are the writings of Elan. They were expunged from Sebacean records thousands of cycles ago."

"So how did you hear about it?" asked Crichton, "If it was deleted?"

"People talk," she answered, "at night and… in bars."

Crichton saluted the Morlamms. "Pulta, you and all your people are free. _'And by virtue of the power, and for the purpose aforesaid, I do order and declare that all persons held as slaves within said designated States, _erh, this planet, _and parts of States, are, and henceforward shall be free._' " He looked at them ashamedly. "I had to learn that for fifth grade history class," he said and then sat down.

"What John Crichton is saying little one is that you and all you people are free - to do any and all that things that you ought to do," Zhaan said softly.

"Oh?" Pulta rocked back on his chair. "Free… free." He rolled the word around. "Free. What we should do now?"

**Author's notes:**

**Crichton quotes from the Declaration of Independence (July 1776) a self-declaration of separation of the United States from England and the Emancipation Proclamation (January 1863) which by which President Abraham Lincoln freed the slaves during the American Civil War.**


	60. Chapter 60

D'Argo

D'Argo laughed at the confused look on Pulta's face. "You see, my tiny friend, you can do whatever you wish, within reason."

"Reason… yes, within reason." Pulta stood up. "But… you are sure…"

Crichton sat up. "Act reasonably. Just don't get into trouble like your former leader."

"I see," Pulta said. "I suspect a few cycles of breaking rocks by Overseer Adnon might be a sufficient example, to him and to others."

"Before you sentence this Adnon person, hadn't you better try him - that is have his guilt decided by a panel of his peers?" Zhaan added, as she was ever concerned about doing things correctly.

Pulta spoke quietly with his two fellows and after a few microts answered. "We shall do that."

"Fine!" Zhaan said. "But remember that with power comes responsibility and that needs reason and logic.

Pulta smiled. "We shall try to do as you suggest."

"But there are other things we need to do before we can leave." Zhaan smiled at her crew.

"What might those be?" D'Argo sniffed and sneezed. "And can we hurry up? The smell down here in these tunnels is frelling up my nose!"

"Yes, Ka D'Argo. There is the matter of Lopzeck, the keeper of the Shrine." Zhaan turned to Pulta. "Where have you put him?"

Pulta stood up drawing his short stature up into a stance of responsibility. "That one is nearby. After he was overcome by the - erh, sight - of so many of us, we thought it best that he be given privacy so he could collect himself. Hemach the healer is with him."

D'Argo rolled his eyes. "Another of your charity cases, Zhaan?"

"No D'Argo," she answered precisely, "he is another soul that is in need. As a Priest of the Goddess it is my duty to help those like him."

Rygel belched loudly. "Sorry. Must have eaten too much."

Crichton reached over and ruffled the Hynerians head. "Sparky! I told you to stop after eight helpings! But no, you had to keep shoveling it in!"

Rygel blinked slowly at John, then gestured at him with his fork. "Crichton, don't ever come between me and food. This meal, such as it was, can only be considered an appetizer at a typical Hynerian feast! When I return to my homeworld…"

"Shut it, Dominar," sad D'Argo sarcastically. "We are still on the, uhm…" he stopped when he saw the worried look on Pulta's face, "_traveling_," he stressed, "on our voyage." There was no need to tell the Morlamms that they were fleeing from pursuers.

"Yes, now about your voyage…" Pulta started to say.

"Well we really must be going!" shouted Aeryn, who was waving to the crew from the door. "These good people really don't care… Come on everyone! Best be up! Come on!" She said all this in false cheer for she really wanted to leave and soon.

D'Argo took the hint and rose. "Seems we must go. If we contact our ship we can bring down another pod to take us home and arrange for exchanging cloth for your foodstuffs."

Zhaan rose gracefully. "I will see Lopzeck now and D'Argo there is something I need you to do. Crichton and Aeryn, I may need your assistance as well."

"Oh?" Aeryn shook back her long hair and patted her pulse pistol.

"Yes, Aeryn Sun," Zhaan sighed. "We may need your and D'Argo's special skills."

D'Argo reached to his back and drew his qualta blade. "I think I understand."

Pulta watched them collect by the doorway. "You must go? I was hoping that you might stay awhile and help us. We have been out of touch for many cycles."

Zhaan smiled. "Gentle one; it is every society's choice to determine their own direction and goals. You must do the same."

Aeryn spoke nervously. "Pulta. There may be… _forces_… out there that may not wish you well. Uhm… how can I say this? Powerful and dangerous, both."

"You mean _Peacekeepers_." Pulta smiled. "Peacekeepers like you."

Aeryn's face grew stricken. "No… no… I'm not a Peacekeeper."

From the look on her face Pulta could see his accusation had struck home. The little miner looked up at her without malice. "Yes, yes you _are_. Hemach identified you from your smell. This one," he pointed at Crichton, "is _not_ a Peacekeeper, though Hemach thinks he ought to be and she is confused by him. But we cannot solve that mystery at this moment. Yes, Aeryn Sun - your weapons, clothing, bearing, and biology - all these things tell us from whence _you_ come. But," he smiled further and held his hands out in peace, "you should have no fear of us."

Aeryn's lip trembled. "You knew? All along? Oh." She tried not to quiver before the tiny being but found her breath coming up short. "I _was_… a Peacekeeper," she mumbled. "But not any longer… not any more." She sagged against the door, shaking.

"Yes, Aeryn, we knew all along." Pulta folded his arms and smiled without malice. "We are not _quite_ as _backward_ or _unaware_ and you may think us to be." He scratched at his head, pulled forth a small insectoid creature from his fur and ate it.

Crichton touched her arm to get her attention. "Do not freak out," he told her quietly. His hand stole lower and held hers in place away from her pistol. "No sudden moves. Calm, Aeryn. Chill."

"John…" her voice trembled. "They could smell it? From my smell?"

John grinned. "Many races have exquisite senses of hearing, sight, or smell. Clearly these people are in the latter category. You okay, now?"

Aeryn looked away then grinned at the Earthman. "I'll… try to be."

"That's my girl," John told her.

"I'm not anyone's girl, Crichton."

John laughed. "Okay, _Officer_ Sun. Juts keep your hand away from the pistol."

Hemach the Morlamm healer came to the door, tugging on the large hand of Lopzeck. "Come. Come. No one will harm you."

Lopzeck hid around the edge of the archway, his taller and blockier frame different, but not that strange compared to the Morlamms. "I am afraid, Hemach." He hid his face behind his hand.

Zhaan saw Hemach looking intently at her so she glided to the door. "Elrot-Tybarg Lopzeck, calm yourself and do come inside." The two females gently drew the quivering creature inside. "Now, look. Do these beings seem to be a threat to you? Or to us? This community welcomes you."

Lopzeck tried to bury his face in his shoulder but after a few microts relaxed. "No, not threat," he mumbled.

"Good, then we shall eat." Hemach pulled the constable towards the table. "And we shall talk."

Zhaan watched the lost person being integrated into a larger group, one he had lived on the fringes of for too long. "Now, D'Argo, John, Aeryn," she held out the tracking device Lopzeck had given her. "We can follow this back to where Lopzeck has been living. There are devices there that we must disable so these people may be free of their chemical servitude."

Lopzeck turned his shaggy head. "I will…" his hand reached up and tapped a code on the device. "There. Now you may… enter the chamber… without fear." He laughed. "Theclassa will be angry - but she will not destroy you now."

"Who's this Theclassa?" asked D'Argo with caution.

"Someone who I'd like to get my hands on and throttle – well and truly," Zhaan said.

D'Argo looked long and hard at the blue Priest. "Zhaan I am very glad that you consider me a friend, for I would not wish to have you as an enemy."

Zhaan's eye's twinkled. "Why thank you, D'Argo. Come, for there are devices for you to… uhm _destroy_ not far from here."

D'Argo hefted his weapon and laughed. "I like you Zhaan! You are quite…"

"_Interesting_, D'Argo?" she replied.

"Yes," he sighed, "that just about says it all."


	61. Chapter 61

Chiana

Chiana had wrestled with the over-boosted controls on the Prowler all the way until she was deep in the planet's atmosphere. "Aeryn, this is one hot ship! Wow! If Neeri and I had one like this we…" she stopped as her brother was either dead or so far removed he might as well be. "yeah… we coulda…" she wiped at a tear. "Come on Chiana, stop. That won't do any good."

The craft dropped through the base of a dense red cloud and then she got a clear view of the orange desert below. "Come on, some on, lock on," she exhorted the scanner, which suddenly started tracking the ground target. "Hey Pilot! You on this comm-link?"

"I hear you Chiana," replied Pilot. "Moya's scanners show you to be 20 metras from the touchdown point. I… that is, we are still unable to contact Rygel or the others. "I caution you that sunset is fast approaching and the evening winds will be picking up, due to cooling of the desert. Temperatures are still searing there. You must limit your exposure to external conditions."

"Yeah, yeah. Got it," Chiana said but then she yelled. "Whoo, hoo!"

"Chiana? Is something wrong?" Pilot yelled.

"No Pilot. Nothing's wrong. Just did a full roll in this thing at five times the local speed of sound. Wow! This thing is hot!" She cranked the controls the other way. "Yeah! Yeah! That's it! Just did another one! I gotta get one of these!" She rolled the craft again just for thrills then calmd down, but the rush made her head buzz.

"Chiana!" screamed Pilot. "If you crash Officer Sun's Prowler she just might shoot you!"

"I know… I know! Can't a girl have some fun?"

"_Fun_ does not mean _tearing the wings_ off the Prowler!"

Chiana retarded the throttles and popped the speed brakes. "Fine, fine! Okay? I'm decelerating! Happy now?" she told him disappointed with his admonishments. "Sheesh!"

Pilot checked the scanners and detected the Prowler, which was now going much slower and at a much lower altitude. "There are numerous rocky outcrops. Avoid… them. Range to target is five metras."

"Got it!" Chiana said, having just banked hard to avoid a rocky spire that towered from the desert floor. "Rocks, lots a rocks! You said it!" She muttered to herself, "Stay sharp girl; that one almost took a wing off."

"What's that, Chiana? Repeat!"

"Nothing," lied the Nebari girl as she felt sweat break out and sting her eyes. The scanner beeped and she banked the craft into a circle. "Got the crash site out the canopy."

"Is there any sign of movement?" Pilot gulped. "They must be okay?"

"Nope. None… wait, wait, something's down there. Something is near the first pod! Man that thing is all torn up! I can see bits scattered all over. But the Zhaan's transport is nearby. Yep. Hey! Hey! Somebody's waving!"

"That must be them." Pilot nodded. "Thank the Makers."

"Hey! I think I see D'Argo! Yeah! That's him!" Chiana made another circuit and rocked the wings. "Pilot, I'm going to land this crate."

"Chiana, I implore you not to damage Officer Sun's craft."

"Well considering this Prowler belongs to Peacekeeper Command, it's not like she owns it now does she?"

Pilot nodded even though no one could see him. "Yes, that is correct, but Aeryn considers the craft to be hers. You would do well not to forget that." Pilot shook his head over the antics of the Nebari girl for Chiana was not exactly responsible at times. "Just… just, uhm… be careful! Moya and I would be…" he had to clear his throat, "upset if anything would happen to…"

"Hey, Pilot. I gotta land this thing so just shut it for a couple of microts, right?" Chiana picked up a level spot, killed the forward velocity then engaged the vertical landing mode. In a howling cloud of dust the landing engines slowed the craft in a final descent. "There we go! Altitude 50 motras, forty…"

Pilot found he was holding his breath as he heard Chiana report.

"Twenty motras, down one; picking up some dust." Then she said, "Drifting to the right a little."

"Crosswinds! Watch it!" Pilot called out.

"Got it! Contact light, shutdown, engines stopped. Yeeh-hah! The Nebari has landed!"

Pilot shook his massive head and let his breath out. "I didn't actually think she could do it."

Moya grunted a musical tone.

"I agree, Moya, Chiana is…"

Moya added another bell-like sound.

"Yes… spirited." He sighed. "That she is."

"Hey Pilot! I can see D'Argo and Crichton. Aeryn too, and a bunch of little critters!" Chiana told him. "I'm popping the canopy!"

"No, Chiana, wait!" Pilot cautioned. He listened for more but could hear what he supposed was the rustle of cloth and the creak of a harness. "Chiana? Chiana?" He strained his ears. "Are you receiving me?"

An odd noise came over the comm, one that was almost organic yet liquid-like. "What the?" Pilot muttered. Then the sound turned into a smacking sound.

"Chiana!" D'Argo shouted and it came through her comm. "You're a sight for sore eyes!"

The liquid sound repeated and in some embarrassment, Pilot recognized it as the sound of a very wet kiss as Chiana was kissing D'Argo.

Then he heard an angry voice. "Chiana! What the frell are you doing flying my Prowler?"

Moya laughed as she heard those words.


	62. Chapter 62

Chapter 62

Crichton

John peered over Aeryn's shoulder from the jump seat of the Prowler as they lifted off and circled while the transport pod launched and took the lead. "How's your head?" He squirmed in the tight seat but at least riding tandem with Aeryn he could enjoy himself, at least more than in the pod with the others.

"Fine," she told him, though her head still hurt. "Sebaceans heal rapidly."

"That was a heck of bang on the head. Sure you're okay?" He touched her shoulder. "I don't know what I'd do if…"

She took a bearing on the transport and increased their speed to fly along side. "If?" She heard him sigh. "If what?"

"How are you two doing back there?" D'Argo asked from the pod. Zhaan was flying it because it would have difficult for him with Chiana climbing all over him. He was surprised the girl felt so, _good actually_, as she wormed her delicate hands under his shirt. "Chiana! Later, maybe?"

"Why wait, D'Argo?" they heard Chiana whisper on the comm. "There's no one in the cargo compartment."

"Ka D'Argo!" interrupted Aeryn. "We're straight and level. How's Rygel doing?" Aeryn asked.

"I'm dying! By the Three-Headed God, I'm dying! I ask forgiveness Great Ones for all my sins…" Rygel groaned and belched loudly. "My stomach… ughh… I'm going to explode!"

"He's over-stuffed, Aeryn," chuckled Zhaan. "Crichton did tell him to not eat so much."

Rygel writhed as his stomachs roiled. "I ate too much… far too…" His eyes tolled in pain. "General Ka D'Argo. Kill me! You must! Put me out of my torment! Unless you're too busy shog flacking that Nebari! Take out your blade…" He belched loudly again. "I never thought it could be like this!" he groaned.

"Rygel, just hold on," Zhaan told him. "When we get to Moya I can decompress your internal passages, then a purging should relieve the discomfort."

"Relieve?" groaned Rygel and his obvious discomfort made everyone flinch who heard it. "How the hezmana are you going to do that?"

Zhaan looked hard at the writhing Dominar and she wondered if she should describe the procedure. Well, she thought, he deserved to know. "Using a local pain killer, of course, I can deflate your upper gastric chamber, but since your innards do not seem to be performing properly, I may need to perform more invasive work."

"This… tube," Rygel stuttered, "just how will you… ahem… use it?"

She answered him, "Through your abdominal wall and maneuver past your blood cleansing systems, then on to…"

"Through my… No!"

"Yes, just a small incision."

"You're going to… cut me? NO! D'Argo help me! Kill me now! Don't let her do it!"

Crichton reached past Aeryn and killed the comm. "Probably don't need to hear any more of that."

"Agreed." She concentrated on flying the Prowler as air currents rattled them. "For a Dominar Rygel can at times be…"

"Fluffy is a fraud."

"I was going to say less than brave."

"But Sparky did come underground to find us."

She nodded. "But only after Pilot threatened to maroon him on the planet." Aeryn still had no idea why Crichton called Rygel _Sparky_ or _Fluffy_, but it didn't matter anyway. At least they were heading back to Moya from the hezmana of a planet.

John chuckled. "Not quite the bravery one could expect from a ruler of," his voice shifted into a gravelly imitation of Rygel's guttural voice, "fifty BILLION Hynerians!"

Aeryn laughed.

"So," John said in her ear, "You're not _all_ business."

"You'd be surprised."

"Really."

She grinned. "There have been a few mornings I wasn't fit to fly."

"You?"

"I've been known to have a tough day after an all-night party. Let me tell you that too much frellip nectar or raslak does not sit well with me."

John laughed aloud. "A Peacekeeper _party_. Well, who knew? I bet those are…" he stopped.

"Yes?" she looked back at him blandly.

"Uhm, a whole lotta fun! I don't suppose you sit around and play spin-the-bottle."

"Spin-the-bottle?"

John was grinning ear to ear. "It's sort of a… well… an… Earth… party game." He tugged at his collar which seemed too tight suddenly.

"Are you at any good at this game?" Aeryn sensed that when Crichton stammered like this he had mentioned something he didn't want to explain.

"It's been… a long time Aeryn."

"Well maybe you can teach it to me some time."

Crichton froze for a few seconds then softly told her, "Maybe I could, Aeryn; maybe I could. But with just the two of us…"

From the way he spoke, she could tell he was being not quite truthful. "So, you don't think I'd like it?" She pushed the throttles forward as the atmosphere thinned with rising altitude, then flipped a few switches angrily. "I'll shoot Chiana if she ever touches my Prowler again! She's totally frelled up the auto-targeting and range finding. I'll have to recalibrate everything she'd touched!"

"Cowboy lady doesn't want anyone else using her prize mustang! Sure, I get it! I'll be sure to let Pip know," he laughed.

Aeryn gave him a murderous look over her shoulder.

"Sorry," he said.

She sniffed. "You do know that much of what you say goes completely past me. I've no idea what you mean."

"Yeah," he sighed. "Lost little Earthman needs a course in remedial Sebacean."

"Crichton, the translator microbes can only find _equivalents_. When you use obscure words like bazzeballl or Jonn Waane no one knows what you mean. And who the frell is Elvis?" From the time they met Chiana, John called her Pip, and just like he called Rygel Sparky that was another mystery. Earthers were strange but and she took a deep breath of the very sweaty male behind her flight seat he had bulled his way through the disagreeable moments of the Morlamm crowd.

He nodded which brought his nose close to her long hair. He could smell her dirty uniform, a whiff of dust from her long hair, and the more animal scent of sweaty woman. His Peacekeeper trousers started to grow tight in the crotch so he had to adjust them.

"Having a problem with your leggings?" Aeryn laughed for she recognized the signs of his interest by his altered vocal cadence and soft tones as well as her own awareness of his male smell. It was becoming harder to _totally_ concentrate on flying.

"No, not really," he lied. "I was worried when you got hurt." He squeezed her shoulder briefly. "Glad you're okay. Don't know what I'd do if…"

"If?" The Prowler had climbed far above the orange desert planet and they were nearly out of the atmosphere. "Should have Moya on the scanner in a few microts."

"I know," he sighed.

Aeryn looked back. "You haven't answered my question."

"If…" he swiped at a suddenly teary eye. "You know."

"Know what?"

"The… thing… if…"

"Crichton you're making no sense again," she lied for she had a very good idea what he meant.

John sighed for he knew Aeryn was a different race, hell even a different species, and they had made love once, but different or otherwise she was pushing all his buttons just sitting in front of him. "I know - I know. I'm not often making sense to you or anybody; hell, not even to me!"

She sighed. "I have Moya on the long range."

"Well then I guess our little shore excursion is about over."

"What do you think will happen to the Morlamms?"

He sighed. "Hell, I don't know! Maybe build a new society and come up after us looking for a _piece of our action_! Ah, if only Captain Kirk could have seen us."

Aeryn shook her head at the strange refereents. "All the same, I donl;t thionk they really would have harmed us, would they?"

"Aeryn," he whispered, "I don't really know. We might all be on the menu right now."

"Thankfully, you stopped that from happening."

He chuckled. "Thanks ma'am just doin' my duty! They needed a new sheriff was all as the old one was a low-down, dirty, no good, rotten cuss."

"Right. Sheriff?"

John sighed. "Never mind."

They flew in silence for a few microts. "John."

"You called me John," he said in surprise.

"That's your name."

"You rarely use it."

That much was true. Only on the fake Earth and stuck in the damaged pod in the Flax had she called him John and that was sparingly. "Perhaps I should use it more."

John patted her head. "Darlin' you can use it anytime you like. No foolin' ."

She opened her mouth and then closed it. Crichton, _no Aeryn, think of him as John_, could be infuriating, annoying and downright stupid and they frequently clashed, usually when she had her pulse pistol ready to blast something or someone, while he urged sense and caution. She knew his planet had wars, all planets did, so how could he be so – thoughtful – in a crisis?

Down on the planet he'd sweet talked his way out of trouble, and for that he was useful. He _was_ annoying, and loud, and stubborn, and a lousy shot with a pistol, but there was value to him. She thought hard for a few microts longer then had an idea. "Rygel will be down for the count and Zhaan will be tending him. Someone will have to return the cloth we traded to the Morlamms for their foodstuffs."

John laughed. "From the noises Chiana was making over the comm D'Argo might be, uhm, _tied up_ for a while."

"I'm not sure that anyone in their right mind would want to tie up D'Argo."

"I…" John paused. "I… mean…" he chuckled.

"Oh?" Aeryn knew full well what he meant and he didn't mean using ropes, or if he did it was not a permanent restraint - more recreational.

"I mean, he might be… uhm…"

"_Occupied_ with Chiana."

"That's it." John chuckled. "A better word."

"Leaving you and me, Crichton to take to pod back down to deliver the goods."

"If you're fit."

"Obviously. Might be a good time for you to get more time in flying a transport."

"Aeryn, have you forgotten the time I flew a pod when we got stuck in the Flax?" He cleared his throat. "Not an experience I wish to repeat."

"You died, John."

"How can I forget? But you brought me back to life, Aeryn."

"It seems that your primitive method EDR worked."

"That's Cee Pee Arr, Aeryn. And I am grateful; very." He squeezed her shoulder and touched her hair.

She looked back at him and smiled and she saw the sincere look he gave her. "That's good, because _John_, I was thinking we might…"

"Might? Might what?" From the way she licked her lips he got the same idea. "Well how about that?" he laughed.


	63. Chapter 63

Crew

The transport lifted off the hanger deck floor and cruised slowly down the length of the bay. Pilot was concerned as Commander Crichton was piloting. Officer Sun was also onboard after they had used the refresher, changed clothing, and then supervised the DRDs who loaded the pod.

Pilot kept a close eye on the burdened pod as it departed the hanger bay. "Commander, you are clear of Moya."

Crichton responded. "Thanks, Pilot. Aeryn and I should be back in four arns, after delivering the cloth to the Morlamms. A pretty fair trade seems to me, since the food they sold us should last us a sixth of a cycle."

"Or perhaps a bit longer," Aeryn Sun chimed in. "Pilot, there may be… erh, storms down there. We may… have to avoid them… which may take extra time."

"Oh, yeah, right," Crichton chuckled over the frequency. "Last scan I saw, oh." He drawled, "There _is_ a storm down there right now. We'll have to fly around it. You see that Aeryn?"

Pilot heard whispered voices. "Officer Sun, Commander? Do you hear me?"

Aeryn got the hint. "Yes… yesss… Pilot, _and_ I also think the comms are getting hit by solar flares or something, right Crichton?"

Pilot heard Crichton speak. "Yup, oh, yeah, _big time_, so Pilot, if we lose comms for a little while longer…" the channel dropped into static and came back. "Sorta like that? We'll be fine. Right?"

Pilot checked the scanners. "Neither Moya or I can confirm any unusual solar activity. It may be possible that the comms unit is being tampered with in some way?"

Moya's voice boomed across his den.

Pilot listened intently. "Oh, yes, I understand Moya… I suppose. Commander, yes, we do sense _some_ sunspots, _possibly_. If you have any, uhm… difficulty, Moya will be monitoring channel zed brok."

Crichton laughed at him. "Thanks, Pilot! You're a buddy! The best!"

"Buddy?" Pilot was puzzled. "Bud - eee?"

"Means good friend," Aeryn laughed and the rarity of the Peacekeeper pilot laughing took Pilot aback.

"Yes, I _see_," Pilot replied. "I hope that things on your delivery flight might be… _rewarding_?"

Aeryn switched off the comm while John chuckled.

John looked at her. "Think he bought it?"

"Bought it?" Aeryn looked at the human skeptically. "What's that supposed to mean?"

John laughed at her. "Girl, there's a few things you need to learn!"

Aeryn poked his arm. "I'm no girl!"

Crichton rubbed the sore spot. "That's for sure." He looked long and hard at the confident woman seated in the other control throne. "All woman."

Aeryn smirked. "You bet your ash."

"Ash?" Crichton was puzzled. "Oh… ha! Ass."

Aeryn tossed her long hair but she smiled. "Whatever."

xxx

Zhaan held a container of green liquid over her patient. "Rygel, this will alleviate your extreme discomfort."

The Dominar lay on her exam table groaning and clutching at his expanded abdomen. "I'm dying! Dying!" He grabbed Zhaan's hand. "When I go, I want my body to be cremated then my ashes placed on the highest point of the Sacred Mountain on Hyneria! And I want the bones of my cousin, Bishan to be stripped of his double-crossing flesh and an altar to be built so that supplicants may make pilgrimage and worship at my grave! Promise me, Zhaan!"

The healer smiled benignly at her writhing and panicky patient. "Rygel! You are not going to expire!"

"Promise me…" Rygel stared at her in agony.

Zhaan forced a tube into Rygel's mouth and squirted in some liquid. "Drink Rygel." She had not found it necessary to perform surgery on Rygel after he'd vomited and after that his labored breathing had improved.

"What is that?" mumbled Rygel after drinking it.

"A suspension of Moya's lower tier fluids and my own special formula."

Rygel started and relaxed. "It… it tastes sweet."

Zhaan smiled. "You just relax, Rygel. You'll be fine."

"Fine?" he said sleepily. "We are being pursued by Peacekeepers, bandits, slanderscreeths, rogue dwarf miners, space pirates, and all the while my kingdom is being ruled over by my cousin Bishan! And you claim we will be fine! Humph."

Zhaan pulled a gold cover up to Rygel's chin. "There. Now relax." She brushed his ear brows. "Dear Rygel, thank you for coming to my rescue."

"Hm, yes, all in a day's work." He yawned. "Thank you… Zhaan…" he started snoring softly. "I am a bit tired."

Zhaan stayed at his side until he fell asleep. "Pilot, can you have a DRD monitor things here? I need to go."

Pilot replied instantly. "Of course, Pa'u Zotah Zhaan. The crew is very fortunate that you are aboard."

Zhaan nodded. "It is my obligation. I will be in my quarters. Call if Rygel appears to be in any distress." As she left the chamber a yellow DRD rolled in and took up station by Rygel.

Three tiers below and far aft, she strolled out of the refresher station having showered and relieved herself. The loose robe she wore covered her nakedness until she reached her quarters, the former prison cell she had been held in. Pilot had offered her, in fact all of them, any number of different rooms for their use but curiously they had all chosen to keep their cells, for each had felt a sense of oneness with those rooms.

Zhaan entered her room and bade the door to pivot closed, then she allowed her robe to slide to the floor and sat down on a large round cushion, placed the soles of her feet together, hands together in front of her chest and began to meditate.

xxx

A naked Chiana wiggled herself closer to D'Argo and played with one his tenkas, kneading the long sense organ on the back of his head. "You are _amazing_," she sighed. "I don't think I've every quite felt anything like that before."

The orange being known as Ka D'Argo laughed. "I'm amazing?" He laughed. "You're amazing!" That, uhm… thing… that you did… oohhhh."

She started to stroke his bare back. "Did you have fun on your little shore excursion?"

"Fun? Those little miners could have done almost anything, but they didn't, thanks to that fahrbot Crichton." He laughed. "When that frellnik marched himself through that angry crown down there, I could have been knocked over by a breeze. But he _'bluffed'_ them; I think that's what Crichton told me; another Earth word."

Chiana ran her naked leg up his, feeling the luscious glide of bare skin on bare skin. "So, Crichton's useful."

"More than I imagined." D'Argo ran his hands down Chiana's loomas as she purred. "So, are you, uhm… ready to… uhm… _do it_ once more?"

Chiana laughed and kissed his bearded face. "I'm _always_ ready, D'Argo." Her hands went roving as she laughed.

He groaned as his nervous system reacted to her tender ministrations. "I never knew a Nebari could be so… so…"

"Shut up D'Argo and get busy!" she laughed. Her mouth descended to his neck.

"Owww!" he yelled. "Did you just bite me?"

In her trance, Zhaan heard Chiana's tinkling laughter echo down the tier and she smiled, but otherwise remained motionless.

xxx

Pilot scanned the DRDs and their comm channels and all seemed to be secure onboard. Rygel was snoring like a Scuterian buzzick after his medical treatment, Zhaan was still squatting in her trance, and Chiana and D'Argo seemed to be sated from their love making. Although internal sensors _did_ indicate the sound of joyful shouting from the region of D'Argo's quarters, _once more_, so perhaps not sated was _exactly_ the proper term.

Pilot smiled to himself, for mating was something he would never do, other than the intimate linkage of his brain to Moya's.

With that thought of his, Moya's voice boomed across his den.

Pilot responded. "Yes, Moya. The transport pod _has_ landed. Long range scan shows a large group of Morlamms have ascended from below and have offloaded the cloth. One hopes that they find it useful in their colony below the desert."

Another sound came from the Leviathan.

"Yes, the transport pod took off just at local sunset." Pilot poked a few controls. "But there may be a storm - an _actual storm _down there now." Pilot smiled at the ceiling, in the direction that he thought of _as Moya_. "I will plan for the pod's delay as it appears to be diverting some distance toward the night side of the planet. Based on the size of the storm, it may be some time until the crew is all assembled aboard once more."

Pilot watched as the pod scanner trace slowed and it landed gracefully in a canyon. "Yes, good idea, Commander," he muttered. "Local conditions may actually be… ahem… conducive for a stroll to look at the stars." He sighed. "I'd like that. Perhaps the Commander and Officer Sun will avail themselves?"

Moya called out once more.

Pilot blinked. "Oh? No Moya, I do not… uhm, _miss_ that part of my culture… for I am with you, _now_ and _forever_ and _constantly_."

The ship rolled to one side and back again while Pilot blinked three times and closed his eyes, his limbs trembling slightly. A DRD perched nearby rolled backwards, eye spots flashing in distress.

Pilot told the robot, after a few seconds, his voice now husky. "No, no danger. I am fine…" He nodded toward the ceiling. "Thank you, Moya – that was – _very_ _nice_."

xxx

"Alright, Crichton, we've taken a walk, and stared at the stars, and we could have done the last part from orbit." Aeryn rubbed her arms. "And it's a bit chilly out here."

Crichton laughed. "Come on then." He escorted her back inside the craft and sealed the door. "Last time I checked," he cleared his throat, "it might be a good idea if we stayed put for a few arns. Let those storms settle down." He sat cross legged on the deck. "Join me?"

Aeryn gave him a thoughtful look. "That might be wise." She sat in similar fashion across from him, less than a motra away, with their knees almost touching.

He nodded. "I'm glad you think so." He yawned and stretched. "So what, uhm, shall we do?"

Aeryn cocked an eyebrow at him. "It's been a full day Crichton."

He yawned. "I know."

"So earlier… you said you might teach me a game. You called it split the bottle."

He sighed. "_Spin_ the bottle, Aeryn. Shame we don't have a bottle."

Aeryn reached into a satchel and took out three. "A bottle of frellip nectar, one of raslack, and one's empty."

John Crichton smiled and cocked his head at the Peacekeeper. "You are amazing."

"I tried to anticipate… possible activities." Aeryn hefted the two filled bottles, one long and slender, the other short and squat. "I think you'll like the frellip nectar. It's similar to Urp beer."

"Earth, Aeryn."

"Right." She pulled the sealer tab and took a pull of the bottle. "Here. Drink. It's cold. I had Pilot chill it."

John took a drink from the long blue bottle and gasped as the fiery liquid seared his throat. "Beer?" he gasped and coughed. "That's not anything like beer!"

Aeryn took back the bottle and took another drink. "It may be an acquired taste. But I like it." She loosened her jacket so it fell open. "Now I'm warm, John."

John laughed, slyly eyeing the clean tight shirt she wore. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you were…"

She raised that eyebrow again. "That I what? Here, drink," she gave him the bottle. "Now about the game?"

"Oh, what the hell." He took the empty bottle and laid it on the floor between them. "Now this game is called _spin_ the bottle." He stopped.

"You've said that, Crichton."

"Yeah. You sure you want to learn this game?"

"I wish to know more of your planet, your _customs_," she said and wished to add the word _you_ to her comment, but she didn't. "Go on… John." He was still quite a mystery, yet he was intriguing.

He smiled. "I'm glad you like my first name. You can use it a lot more often, you know." He reached out and spun the bottle where it revolved a few times neck past flat bottom until it stopped; now facing in the general direction of the Peacekeeper. "There."

"That it?" Aeryn asked. "A stupid game."

"Well," he coughed, "then, uhm, you usually… you see… play with a lot more people, in a circle, girls and guys."

"Then what happens?" she asked, laying her black jacket aside.

He sighed. "You, well, the person that's spun the bottle, they, uhm…" he cleared his throat and tugged at the collar of his shirt for it suddenly felt hot in the pod, "they…uhm…"

"They what?"

John's face flushed. "The person who has spun the bottle, they uhm… they _kiss_… the person… the… top of the bottle points toward."

"Oh."

John watched her carefully but she didn't react that much.

She tossed her long dark hair. "On the fake Earth, John, you made me feel something; something I haven't felt in a long time," she told him, her voice getting softer. They had recreated then and she found it enjoyable and he seemed to have as well. Circumstances had prevented them from even thinking about a repeat encounter.

He licked his lips, and looked at her mouth, then at her eyes. "That was… in the _heat_ of the moment."

She stared at him. "You mentioned that we might become team mates."

"I did say that."

"And when our pod was trapped in the Flax and we were going to asphyxiate, we… we almost… reacted in the same way…"

John toyed with his bootlace. "I suppose you could say that."

Former Peacekeeper Officer Aeryn Sun looked at the strange being seated near her. His name was John Crichton; an astronaut; and he looked like one of her people, but he was different; very different. She sighed.

"Problem?" he said.

She looked down at the bottle. "The bottle's still pointing at me."

John grinned. "So it is."

"Crichton, you've explained to me the rules of this game. What is the point of it?"

He laughed then stopped. "Never mind. It's stupid." He started to stand and Aeryn caught his wrist.

"So, John," Aeryn answered with a meaningful smile, "kiss me, on the lips."

John chortled as he leaned towards her. "Why, Officer Sun, I thought you'd never ask."

xxx

Just then, up in orbit the Leviathan stirred as a long range scanner picked up an ident flash from her external comm array.

Pilot had been dozing in the half sleep that he entered at times. To a human biologist they would have found to similar to the twilight-sleep that dolphins entered. But Pilot never actually slept, more dozed.

"Alert!" Pilot screamed, instantly awake as Moya prodded him with a pulse of thought. "_Peacekeeper Marauder_! Estimated intercept to planetary orbit is three arns or less!" he screamed over the inter-ship frequency. "Move it!"

The crew swung into action, either getting dressed, or running directly to Command.

xxx

Aeryn Sun leaned back having just kissed Crichton full on the lips. "Crichton, uhm… we could have se…"

The comm call blasted inside the hull of the little pod on the planet. "Commander, Officer Sun!" Pilot screamed at them. "We have company! Incoming hostiles!"

"Shit!" John yelled and jumped to his feet. "You get that?"

Aeryn stood gracefully. "Frell. I did."

"Let's roll, Aeryn." John shook his head. "Never a dull moment!"

"Right," she replied urgently. "Brace yourself; this will be a fast take off."

xxx

D'Argo arrived in Command buttoning his trousers, with Chiana hot on his heels. "Where's the pod?" he yelled to Pilot's image on the viewer.

"They have just launched!" Pilot informed him. "We'll pick them up on the far side of the planet in a quarter arn, using the bulk of the planet for shielding."

"Give me manual control," D'Argo shouted and the control stick flopped up on the panel. "I've got her!" He fired thrusters and guided Moya into a spiral path, towards the planet. "That should confuse them!"

Zhaan arrived and clutched at a console. "It's sure shaken up me!"

"You alright?" D'Argo shouted.

Zhaan and Chiana answered together. "Yes." The two women eyed each other and Zhaan smiled.

"It's alright child," she told Chiana.

Chiana laughed, her pink tongue sticking out between her black lips. "Is it always this much fun around here?"

Rygel floated into Command and belched. "I'm hungry."

"Usually," D'Argo scoffed. "Glad to see you fit, Rygel."

"I'm not dead yet," the Dominar grunted. "When do we eat?"

xxx

Pilot stayed on the control links just in case, but General Ka D'Argo had a steady hand on the helm. In a few moments, Moya swiftly plunged around the night side of the planet and his scanner showed the pod. "Ka D'Argo! The pod is in sight and extrapolations indicate the Marauder appears to be maintaining its original course to the planet. We may have lost them."

D'Argo grunted. "Good. Get the hanger doors open, Pilot. This will be a quick pickup. Can Moya starburst?"

"Whenever you ask for it," Pilot said.

The pod rose swiftly towards them and keeping comm silence, standard procedure when possibly under surveillance, the transport pod flew to the rear of the Leviathan and inside the hanger.

"Close the doors! Go!" screamed D'Argo. "MOYA! Starburst NOW!"

Energies that Moya had been storing swelled to fruition and then with an almost orgasmic pulse, were released into her systems. The wave of energy flowed from bow to her stern, and then the drive on her tail spines engaged and they LEAPED – somewhere else!

xxx

Moya cruised slowly through uncharted space, near a nebula that was illuminated by a pulsar. The giant gas cloud flashed five times a second as the spinning pulsar swept beams of energy focused by magnetic fields near the poles and only Moya's considerable distance kept them being fried by radiation.

John Crichton stared out the Command port at the beautiful scene. "Wow! Look at that. Flashbulb city!"

Aeryn coughed as she watched John sketching the clouds of gas as they flowed past. "Seems we've lost that Marauder back there."

John nodded. "That's good."

"And this is just _another_ nebulae Crichton. We'll transit to the far side and when Moya is ready, we'll starburst once more and then this ball of gas will be far behind us. You're probably like to study it, perhaps?" she said, slightly archly.

"Pulsars might be a beacon for me to find landmarks, Aeryn. Lighthouses on the road home." His graphite stick moved in sure moves over the cloth sheet he was drawing on.

Aeryn looked at the drawing. "You have a fine eye."

He nodded, for out the corner of his eye _her_ beauty made the magnificent gas outside the ship pale in comparison. "I try." He bent over a console while he sketched.

She sighed. "Always running." She opend her mouth and stopped.

"Yes. That's the situation, isn't it?" Crichton paused. "You want to say something else?"

She ducked her head. "No," but then she propped her chin on his shoulder.

Crichton reached towards her and hugged her across her shoulders. "Some other time, perhaps," he said softly, with a twinkle in his eye.

She did not stiffen at his touch. "We _never_ have enough time, do we?" she said softly.

John Crichton turned his head and winked at her. "We just have bad timing." But that was always the case with them – always on the run, never any rest, and worse, they were often at odds. He brushed back a strand of hair from her face. "Later."

Aeryn flashed a rare smile. "Well, then Earthman," she paused for her mind was trying to tell her something, "later it is."

Crichton laughed. Maybe there was hope yet. "I'll hold you to it," he laughed.

xxx

Pilot observed their encounter and smiled to himself. "Yes, Moya," he said, "your crew seems to shaping up and quite well."

Moya soared above the nebula and sighed deeply to herself, for what her Pilot said was true.

The Leviathan grew smaller with distance, diminishing into a smudge, a line, a dot, and finally a tiny speck, until it disappeared from sight in the flashing and swirling gas clouds.

THE END

_**Farscape**_** is owned by the **_**Jim Henson Company**_** and all the characters, titles, settings, and situations portrayed in the television show are owned by that corporate entity. This work**** of fiction has been written for purely entertainment purposes and no infringement of any legal rights of the owner is intended or implied.**

**I want to thank the many readers who have left reviews or made comments to me on the private comms.**

**This story takes place in Season 1, after "The Flax" and "The Human Equation." Chiana is on board Moya, so it happens soon after the episode "Durka Returns".**

**As we know the adventures of John Crichton and Aeryn Sun ended on the small screen some time ago, yet to many of us, they are still **_**out there**_**, somewhere.**

**Thanks once more for following this very long story! Maybe I'll see you on the flip side on another venture into the Uncharted Territories.**

**Rob (aka **_**robspace54**_**)**


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